Out in the Open
by lwdgrl782
Summary: *Sequel to In the Closet* Set almost two years after the events of the first story, older Wilbur's perfect life starts to fall apart, and a mysterious visitor from the future comes to try and make it better and warn him of the mistake he is about to make. (Timecest warning, of course)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Oh wow, it's been so long. I know I said a year ago that I would have a sequel to **_**In the Closet **_**up "soon" but the plot I initially had was flimsy and not worth writing a story on. I revisited the idea, and just came up with the plot I'm going with tonight. I think those of you who loved the original story will enjoy this, even if you may want to kill me at times. That being said, this first chapter will be short and sweet, kind of an introduction with a bit of fluff to catch you up on where we are. Young Wilbur and Young Lewis won't be a part of this story, as we know from In the Closet what happened to them and at this point in time they aren't talking. This story follows the older couples (40s Cornelius and Wilbur and the even older 70s Cornelius and Wilbur [who were introduced in the first fic]). Enjoy.**

Out in the Open: Chapter 1

It had been nearly two years since Wilbur, now forty-seven, had reunited with Lewis, or as everyone else called him, Cornelius, and to say they were happy was an understatement. They made it a point to see each other at least once a week, which was at times difficult because of hectic schedules, the time stream, and the messy situation of trying not to be caught by Franny and the rest of the family. They'd agreed that this time their relationship would be their own, and private. No one needed to know, and being grown men, they didn't need permission to see each other or spend the night together, which they scarcely did except when everyone else was going on a trip and Cornelius could think of an excuse to stay home. When he did get out of trips, it was because he had said he had a huge project to work on, but he didn't excuse himself from trips all the time, because if he did someone would get suspicious.

This rainy night in mid-December, Franny was playing with her frogs at a concert hall as part of an event for a cause neither Cornelius nor Wilbur cared to know about. All they knew was everyone else would be out of the house from eight until about midnight, and they could be alone, but they couldn't do anything that would exert themselves, because Wilbur had to drive back home before the end of the night, and Cornelius once again resented his wife for different reasons.

"We could be doing stuff right now if she's just accepted the offer to stay at the hotel for the night," Cornelius said begrudgingly. "Then you wouldn't need the energy to drive home." He'd realized that if he wanted to control himself it was best to sit up on the bed and not enclose himself in the sheets, because he knew if he did he'd just spend the rest of the night in between them.

"And ruin her sheets again? Honestly, Lewis, be a little considerate." It was a sarcastic reply, but Cornelius sensed that Wilbur was hiding the fact that he was also angry with the situation. Yet, he wanted to play around with their banter a bit.

"Okay, so next time she's not here for the night I'll tell _you _to be considerate and not ruin the sheets." He smiled. It was meant to be slightly flirtatious and he was losing his edge. He flopped down horizontally across the bed and waited for the response he knew he was going to get. They had the lamp on in the corner of the room but otherwise the room was completely dark. Franny had set it up like that after Wilbur was born. Once Cornelius knew he had secured the timeline, and Wilbur existed, he stopped trying to be romantic with her. He didn't miss their nightly encounters, but he sensed she did, and she had initially tried to rekindle the flame by romanticizing the atmosphere of the house. She didn't succeed, and eventually gave up, but the lamp stayed. She said she liked it there.

"You're just trying to be a tease." There was a slight pause. "You shouldn't be. That's my job." Wilbur turned around, and still seated, leaned down and kissed Cornelius's forehead.

"We assigned jobs?" Cornelius asked, actually sounding genuinely surprised.

"Well, we assigned _positions._" Grinning, he rotated around, leaned forward, and this time kissed Cornelius on the lips. Wilbur let Cornelius reach up and use his arms to keep Wilbur's head still so he didn't break the kiss they'd been building up to.

"Younger me really doesn't know what he's missing," Wilbur said, gently pulling away. He quickly remembered that this was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late, and he felt regret as he watched Cornelius's face fall.

"Younger you hates me." It was flat and hopeless. Wilbur couldn't see, but in the dark Cornelius's eyes welled up with tears.

"You know that's not true," Wilbur replied warmly. "He'll come around. He just needs time. We have a time machine to prove it."

"I know, but I miss my son. You don't have children, Wilbur. You don't know what it's like to have your kid hate you." The words were slightly shaky now, and Cornelius felt Wilbur grab his hand as an act of comfort.

"I love you, Lewis." He leaned down to kiss him again, and afterward got up from the bed. He saw Cornelius sit up as soon as he was on his feet.

"You're leaving?" Once again, the voice sounded slightly upset.

"I have to. It's almost midnight and they'll be home soon." He paused and hoped for the best. Now came the question he dreaded asking. "When's the next time you expect them to be gone?"

The room seemed stifling as he waited for a reply. One time he'd waited an entire month to enter the house again, meeting Cornelius for four weeks in the garage for ten precious minutes each time, speaking in hushed tones and trying desperately not to do anything that would be hard to explain should they be caught.

"Tuesday there's another concert, this time at five in the evening. Franny knows I'd never make it there. I work until seven, you know that. I'll give my workers the day off that day and stay home. We just won't tell her that."

"Okay, I'll see you then." Another pause. Then he added swiftly but sweetly as he walked out the bedroom door, "Good night, Lewis. I love you." And as he drove home in the time machine that night, he realized he had never said anything more honest in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again. So I'm hoping to have a chapter up once a week (probably every Sunday). I was a bit down this weekend. Stuff happened and now my vacation is over and school starts again tomorrow and ugh. Anywho, I'm hoping you like this chapter but you may start hating me by the end of it. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'd also like to thank those of you who read the original story and have returned to read this. Your loyalty means a lot. Enjoy.**

Chapter 2

The ride back in the time machine went quickly, as per usual. Wilbur was already at the Robinson Estate when he traveled to visit Lewis, and since that was his destination also, albeit thirty years in the future, very little driving had to be done. Lewis was always wary about him getting behind the wheel at night when he wasn't fully awake, but when all that had to be done was the simple task of punching in a year, his alertness didn't matter. No driving was involved in this case.

There was a bit of a breeze in the air as he moved the time machine into its place in the garage, but other than that the night was still and surprisingly not cold given the time of year. There was no noise coming from above his head, but it was midnight and the silence did not alarm him. They were all asleep upstairs, and he looked forward to joining them and being alone with his thoughts. He would go over in his head the same thing he always went over whenever he came back from a visit with Lewis. It would have something to do with how messed up the situation was, how it needed to be fixed, and then end with the realization that it couldn't be fixed, and it never would be. They'd talked about maybe telling the family again and making it easier on themselves, but that wasn't what the time stream wanted. They weren't meant to tell anyone and make it public again, having a sort of "coming out 2.0." No, they'd take the secret to their graves.

He took the pure silence in the house as a sign that it would be okay if he just took the travel tubes up one flight and then walked up the stairs to his room. In all probability, his late arrival would go unnoticed. The tubes had been a blessing when he was younger, smaller, and thinner, but they had gotten uncomfortable to go through as he got older.

"...yeah, how are things over there?" he suddenly heard a voice coming from upstairs. He recognized it as Tallulah's.

"Oh. Well, I think he just got home. I thought I heard something downstairs. Yeah, I'll tell him and we'll be there. Yeah. Bye." He couldn't help but notice how upset she sounded, and found that he was suddenly extremely motivated to get upstairs and see what was going on. He couldn't tell why, but the vagueness of the situation, his lack of knowledge, greatly worried him, and the fact that the lights were on upstairs when he got out of the tube only made it worse.

"Took you long enough," Tallulah scoffed. Her eyes were red and it was clear she had been crying, and this anger at him was the result of it. He didn't ask what was wrong. He found that he couldn't, and silence endured. It was an uncomfortable silence and he didn't meet her gaze, and finally she'd had enough. "Well, aren't you going to ask?" She paused then herself and ran her fingers through her hair nervously. Then, with her eyes on the floor, she added, "Your father's in the hospital."

It felt like the world had turned upside-down and he was knocked out of his silence. "What did you say?" It came out lower than he intended. The way he said it, he sounded like a parent who was so furious he'd lost the ability to scream, and instead remained calm.

"Jesus, Wilbur! I said something's wrong and everyone else went to the hospital because your father is sick!" She turned away, so frustrated she couldn't face him. "I stayed here to wait for you and now that you're here we're going to see what's going on."

"Well, what happened?!" It was a shriek that came through tangled sobs he was glad she couldn't see. "Can't you tell me what happened while I was gone? He's my dad and I want to know!"

She turned around, her fists clenched and eyes locked on him in anger. "If you stayed here instead of going out doing God knows what maybe you would know! What's it matter? All that matters is right now he's waiting for you there, asking for _you _and you're wasting time!" Again, she paused, bit her lip, and begrudgingly added, "I was upstairs and your mom called me because he had fainted in the kitchen. That's all I know. He's conscious now but the condition itself, whatever it is, is getting worse. I've been on the phone with your mother and she says they don't know if-" She stopped midsentence, wiped the tears from her face and letting the words settle. She didn't have to finish the sentence. He knew how it would end. She started walking to the door, her coat now on, and as she passed him she said, "You really need to learn how to put your family first."

Entering the hospital, they found Lazlo to be asleep along with Franny's brothers, but Franny was wide awake. She had been waiting. She ran to the door to hug him but Wilbur was tense and didn't return her sign of affection. Pulling away, she looked him straight in the eye and searched for the sorrow she had been expecting to see. It wasn't there. He'd hidden it. His feelings right now were for only his father to see, and he wouldn't show those deep, private thoughts in his head to his mother. She hadn't a right to know.

"Tallulah told you?" Franny asked him the question, but her eyes wandered over to Tallulah before he could answer. Tallulah nodded in response, and his mother's gaze went back to him.

"Come with me." It was a lifeless command, but he obeyed, even though he wasn't doing it for her, but for _him_, for Lewis. "He wasn't awake before but now he is and he's been asking for you. He knows he's sick. He knows he doesn't have much time left to…"

She was speaking but he was drowning her out. He hated hospitals more than the others and wanted to go home. He must not have answered a question she asked or reacted to a comment she made, and she stopped talking until they arrived at the room.

"I'll leave you two alone. You can come downstairs when you're ready." She received no reply and walked away, and he dragged himself into the all-white room.

"I was beginning to think you'd never show up," Cornelius remarked. It was a feeble joke but it made Wilbur smile slightly as he sat down next to the hospital bed.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see this joke you're pulling off for myself. This is for a new invention, right? I know you discussed coming out of retirement but this…this is extensive." The sudden change in attitude toward the situation was his body's way of dealing with the shock. He went into denial because he saw that it was real.

"This isn't part of an experiment, Wilbur. I wish it was." Cornelius wasn't looking at him and his response was dry and subdued. "I wouldn't play any of you like this."

"What do you mean it's not an experiment?" His voice went slightly higher in pitch as he tried but failed to hide his surprise.

"Did denial kick in before or after you got here?"

"Denial over what?! Lewis you can't…you can't." He got up from his chair and allowed himself to shout. "You can't leave me! How dare you!"

"Don't be mad, Wilbur, please. I wanted you to know. If I never really expressed how much I love you…"

He stopped, saw the effect his words were having on his son as he watched Wilbur's face contort into an ugly grimace as he fell on the chair and burst into sobs.

"Does he know?" Wilbur was able to compose himself long enough to get the question out. His father would understand the meaning of it.

"Yeah, he does. He knew when it would happen. He's prepared."

He heard Wilbur scoff through his tears. "Huh, bullshit. He's losing the love of his life. He's not prepared, Lewis."

"Believe it or not, we discussed this. I knew."

Wilbur's eyes flew open wide and met his father's distant gaze. "You…you knew? You knew you were dying and you didn't tell me? How could you not tell me this!"

"I didn't want to trouble you."

"I thought you said my future self was prepared. If he's so prepared why couldn't you let me also prepare myself?"

"That's not how it's supposed to be." Cornelius's reply was gentle as he tried to calm down Wilbur in his rage.

"Oh, yeah, the time stream, as always. So because you give it to him nightly he gets to know…but I'm your son and live in the same time period. You raised me. So I don't get to know. Something's up with that logic."

"That's not what I meant. You think I want to leave both of you? I wish I could see you one more time…"

"I'm right here, Lewis!" Wilbur broke into a fresh set of tears as the feeling of simply not being enough hit him. He wasn't enough for his dying father because he was just his son, not the one years ahead of him who had earned his heart. "Why am I not good enough for you? Why?" His face stung from his own burning tears and he'd decided he'd had enough and got up to leave. "You know, Lewis, tonight you told me I didn't know what it's like to be hated by my own kid. Well, thing is, I know what it is to be not good enough for my own father."

"Wilbur, please stay." But with one punch to the wall Wilbur left for the time machine.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long. A lot has happened over the past few weeks and I've been down. Anyway, I'm back and will try to update once a week as originally planned.**

Chapter 3

As he marched out of the hospital, Wilbur wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that he hadn't been warned that this would happen, or the pain that came with the realization that he wasn't good enough. It was like being in high school and being told that the person you were dating was still into his or her ex. Like that, his father had chosen who mattered most, and he hadn't won. Wilbur was his son, but he had nothing. It was a title, and it meant nothing. It didn't bring them together, but in fact kept them apart. He could've known and prepared, but he wasn't given the chance to, because all Wilbur was was his son, and nothing more; at least not in this reality.

He took Lazlo's car without thinking twice and drove home, where he would find the time machine, and when it finally dawned on him that he'd basically stolen his car, he reasoned that it would be hours before any of them noticed. He drove with the window open and tried to ignore the air that seemed significantly colder than before. The temperature seemed to mirror his father's actions and all the secrets he kept. He would have to go to where he was wanted, and be with the one who mattered. Some incarnation of his father thirty years back wanted him, and maybe, just maybe, he would stay there and not come back.

He looked ahead and carefully read all the signs which led him home, taking in all of them, treating the moment as if it were the last time he would ever see any of them in this form. The next time he saw these lights, trees, and signs on the highway, it would be thirty years back, with someone who actually cared about him.

Housing would probably be an issue, of course. Lewis wouldn't be able to hide him in the house forever, but they'd work something out, switching him from empty room to empty room, keeping him away from everyone until he could find an apartment. It would be difficult to do, but he knew Lewis would not refuse to let him stay there until he found a place to go. Then there was the messy business of having to avoid his younger self for the rest of his life. Their city wasn't the largest by far, but it was possible to never run into someone if you really wanted to, and he had changed in appearance enough over the course of thirty years that even if his younger self did see him on the street, maybe he would hesitate and wonder if he were really seeing things right, and by the time he realized he had indeed seen things correctly, he would be gone and lost in the crowd. Names were also an issue. He would have to ask Lewis to help him create a new identity, so he didn't blow his cover whenever he was asked for ID. By doing this, he'd also be saving his younger self from an odd form of identity theft.

He parked the car and searched for the keys that would unlock the garage door and lead him to the time machine. His hands fumbled once or twice, maybe more. His body was on edge, as if some part deep within him was made unsettled by the thought of running away and leaving everything without even leaving a note. He couldn't leave a note, because he couldn't explain what was going on again. He couldn't get a piece of paper and somehow try to express the broken pieces within himself. So instead of letting it out, he was left to deal with this anxious feeling. It reminded him of all those times in high school when he'd snuck out of the house and gone to a party with friends and felt a rush brought on by this rebellious nature. Half those nights he'd come home just a bit tipsy. The other nights, he'd convinced himself to not act stupid, even though he wanted to do _something _to relieve the grief that plagued him throughout his senior year. It was the deep ache that wouldn't go away, that need to just graduate so he could move and never look back. It was a grief over Lewis that he thought would go away if he moved far, far away. He knew all too well that it didn't budge. He was like a sickness, his Lewis. His father was too, but to a lesser extent, and he could shake it off if he wanted to, if he tried hard enough.

Opening the garage door, he stumbled around to find the time machine. The lights probably would've helped, but turning on a light switch was too much work at this point. He would need all his energy to explain to Lewis what had just happened without letting his emotions explode and ending up in a wild mess somewhere between anger and sorrow. Come to think of it, he hadn't thought of what to say. It was too harsh to just come out and tell someone when they would die, or even just say that that was a part of their future. Everyone knew it would happen eventually, but they just kind of blocked it out and hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't come. This truth of what was now happening shattered any hope and made death a cruel reality, and he almost stopped himself from getting in the machine because he wasn't sure if he could do that to someone he loved. Not only that, but he was basically telling Lewis he'd left him and didn't want to be with him as he died. He'd have to build his case well and show that he wasn't leaving the person he loved, just his father who had always been no good and always let him down. He wouldn't leave _his _Lewis. His older self was probably on his way right now to give him the comfort he wanted.

Somehow managing to find all the right buttons in the pitch black room, Wilbur soon found himself in a much brighter room: the garage thirty years back. He heard voices coming from the house, and picked out each one: Franny was going on about some minor error in the orchestration that only she would notice. His mother had a habit of annoying him, considering she was the competition. Fritz was trying to tell her that it was all fine, and was pretending to make Petunia talk and agree with his comments. Lazlo was staying out of the conversation, periodically telling his father he was right to say what he was saying, but Lazlo himself clearly showed no interest. The rest of the gang was chiming in on the matter, his grandparents occasionally telling Lazlo to pay more attention to his parents. He heard Tallulah having an entirely different conversation, presumably over the phone with a friend, and the absence of his own voice reassured him that he was upstairs, and undoubtedly away from Lewis, who was without a doubt in the bedroom where they'd been earlier. The situation could not have been more perfect.

Feeling reassured that it was a safe move, Wilbur moved underneath the travel tube and in a matter of seconds found himself in Lewis's room, where he was immediately greeted with a less-than-desirable sigh of slight disappointment.

Cornelius had been mapping out plans for a new invention when he heard the travel tube compartment open and shoes hit the floor. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was, but he did it anyway.

"I thought we agreed: no surprise visits." It came out in an irritated manner, but Wilbur forgave it. Cornelius really had no idea what was happening, and he knew that he wasn't really angry, just concerned that they'd get caught.

"Yeah, we did, I know we did." He slowly approached the seat in which Lewis sat. "But this is different." Realizing where he was, he lowered his voice a bit. "Something's happened, and it was important that I see you. I," there was a slight pause as he decided what to say. "I need you right now, Lewis." He saw Lewis's face soften and watched as he got up from the chair and walked closer.

"What happened?" It was gentle. It was amazing how he could be so gentle with someone who was essentially his son, and yet avoid sounding paternal. Wilbur latched onto him, burying his face into the crook of his neck, and he tried to get the words out.

"You're…you're…God, I don't know how to say this, Lewis." He paused, and remembered that he should try to be gentle. He should not come right out and say what was happening, but imply it and let him figure it out. "You're really sick." It was forced, and it showed, and he just narrowly escaped an audible voice crack.

"Am I-?" Lewis left it open ended. The question he meant to ask was pretty obvious, and Wilbur admired how he could face his own death.

"Y-yeah." He lost it then, crying into Lewis's shoulder without even making a sound. He couldn't muster the strength. He felt Lewis's grip around him ease, and felt himself being gently moved forward, and he found himself on the bed, on Lewis's lap. He didn't try to speak. He knew he couldn't, but he tightened his grip again and let himself be completely vulnerable.

"When did you find out?" It was another gentle question. He didn't seem to be pressing for an answer, and seemed to understand that Wilbur couldn't speak. The question was just there in case he wanted to answer. A solid minute passed. "Wilbur?" Cornelius had gently repositioned Wilbur's right arm, moving it from its around-the-neck position, and was now taking his hand, letting their fingers loosely intertwine. It was enough to let Wilbur know that he'd have to answer.

"When I got home. Everyone was at the hospital, but Tallulah waited for me. She took me there. You said you wanted to see me but I-" He paused, let a single tear roll down his cheek as he let the memory come back. "I know it's not _me _you wanted to see. It was…him."

"But you _are_-"

"No, I'm not." It came out stronger than the rest of his words. Although his voice was still shaky, he could not say this calmly. "I can't give you want he does. I _don't. _My father, he sees me as a son. You see younger me as a _son_. And it would be terrible if you didn't, I guess, but it's horrible to remember that that is my limitation. My future self, the one my father sees, he's not me."

"It's funny," Lewis added, not as gentle, but speaking in a normal tone. "You're mad at my older self for seeing you as a son, but you just called him your father. You called _me _your father. Weren't you just yelling at my older self for the same thing?"

Wilbur realized the hole he'd fallen into, and glossed over it. "The point is, I can't go back there. I'm not wanted there and I can't be there."

"I need you there. I don't care what time stream we're in, whether it's the present or in the future, I _love _you. And I never see you as _just _a son, because every time I look at _him _I see _you. _And I remember who he grows up to be, what he'll do, and it's what keeps me going. Because he may hate me, but I know you don't."

It was impossible to get closer to him because they were already pressed together, but Wilbur tried to close what was already a nonexistent gap even more, and he found himself pressed against Lewis to the point where breathing became difficult.

"I don't want you to leave me. I know I can't escape it, but facing it is so _hard, _Lewis, I-" He stopped, thought for a moment, and then concluded, "I'll go back if you really want me there." He heard no verbal answer, but could sense a gentle nod, got up from where he sat. He had his face turned toward the door, but he could feel his hand being squeezed with such an intensity he almost hated to go and do what he knew the same person would thank him for doing in the future. He gently pulled away and left without uttering another word.

He traveled back to his own time, took the car and drove back to the hospital, walked through the door to the blinding white light, and was shocked to see only his mother in the waiting room. For a second, he was hopeful, and for a split second, he genuinely believed that maybe everyone else had gone home, and it would all be okay.

Then he really saw her face, and he knew.

"Where were you?" It was a harsh accusation and barely a question.

He didn't answer. She couldn't know.

"Where were you?" It came stronger this time. "He needed you and you weren't there."

His parents hadn't gotten along in years, but now he saw how much she really still loved him.

"You _left _him. _Why?_"

He stopped himself from shouting that he had been with him the whole time, that he had not completely deserted his father, but the situation forbade him from saying anything.

"_Wilbur." _It was a small, barely inaudible sound coming from a broken voice. A hurt voice.

He grew closer to her, something he couldn't stand to do just yesterday. Right now she was not his rival. She was his mother, and he knew when he was needed. She got up and hugged him, and by reflex alone he returned the embrace.

"He's gone. What are we going to do?"

He wished he had answer. He wished he could comfort her, but he didn't know what he was going to do, and couldn't tell her what to do. He felt the grief beginning to swallow him, that feeling of not knowing how to go on, and not wanting to. Breathing became a huge effort. But he knew he had to be the strong person here. His feelings wouldn't be important for months. He hadn't asked for the position, but he knew he would become the one who everyone else relied on, and he would carry everyone else, and by the time someone asked how he felt, he wouldn't express it, because his feelings would be long forgotten in order to deal with never being asked about them. It would become unacceptable for him to ask for help from anyone, and he'd have to find other outlets to destroy his grief. Someone had to be strong here.

But he was used to bottling up his emotions, and he could do it again. Being out in the open scared him too much.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I had some writer's block. I also just finished high school, so the workload recently was horrible. The good thing is, now that I'm out of school for the summer, I should be able to update regularly. Enjoy.**

Chapter 4

The next three days in the Robinson household, the Robinson household that was twice removed from the present day, that is, were depressing to say the very least. Wilbur did not stay in the hospital for very long after he found out about his father's fate. It was stifling, and for a night in December, extremely hot. He found it difficult to breathe, and although he could see the disappointment in his mother's face when he refused to speak with the doctors, he continued with his plans to leave. Speaking with them wouldn't help now. They couldn't do anything, and knowing the cause of death wouldn't help his peace of mind. Some news stations were camped outside the hospital. He could see the morning's headlines already: "**Cornelius Robinson, Renowned Inventor: Dead"** would be on the front of every newspaper in the world. He should've tried to shield himself, because he just _knew _that they would get a kick out of adding to their articles that his eldest son and only child had left the hospital ahead of his mother, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was desperately trying to heal. He almost walked back in the hospital to ask for assistance for himself, but then he remembered: no medicine in the world, no surgery or treatment, could stop a broken heart from bleeding.

Wilbur arrived home at 2 AM, but his mother did not walk through the door until 3:30. It was funny: for about thirty years, she had believed Cornelius had done something to Wilbur. She believed their son was being molested, and found it hard to look at him. Now, she seemed to have lost all energy. Wilbur saw, by the glow of the lamplight that night, why she had stayed with him and not sought a divorce. It was because although he had hurt her, she loved him, and she was glued in place, and couldn't leave her source of life. He felt a twinge in his stomach as he heard her soft sobs that night. He had seen the others shed some tears, but if they were crying in their rooms now, he couldn't hear it. She was audible, and he felt guilty for taking Lewis away. He felt guilty for carrying on with Lewis and making her believe he was faithful. He suddenly felt guilty for all the long nights they'd spent together, all their escapades, all the times they'd ruined her sheets and become one on the very bed on which he was conceived. For a split second, he wanted to confess, but he swallowed hard and made himself stay in place, because he couldn't risk her destroying the time machine, and losing all contact with his Lewis. Yes, she was hurting, but so was he, and he had to be selfish.

The next three days were mostly silent. Occasionally, the phone would ring, but the call always pertained to the funeral. It was always either the funeral home calling, or someone calling them about the arrangements. No outward calls had to be made. Everyone knew what had happened. It was everywhere. The service would be Saturday. It would be private, family and close friends only. No wake. If they wanted, they could've invited admirers around the world to come and pay their respects, and feel the love, and they would hear for the thousandth time just how special "Cornelius" had been. But they had heard that for over sixty years, and had had their fill of it.

The funeral itself was held at a small church close to the Robinson Estate. They weren't religious people, but they had been baptized, and right now it was comforting to think some higher being was showing the deceased inventor how life in paradise worked. Wilbur stood removed from all the events, and while his family stood and surrounded the coffin which they had followed to the cemetery, he alienated himself and stood leaning against a nearby tree. He couldn't tell if he was doing this because he needed the support or not. He couldn't cry. He couldn't let them know how much Lewis meant to him. He refused to show vulnerability. In the church, he had tried to get into the homily, but it was impossible. The priest tried to say something meaningful about his father, something different from what all the papers said, but all Wilbur did was bury his head in his hands and laugh, because this man didn't know his father, and he was too desperate to sound sincere. When it came time for a member of the family to come up and say a few words, Franny was the one to speak. He just couldn't do it, because if he opened his mouth to say what his father really meant to him, he would let too much out. So the whole Mass, he had sat in the third pew from the front, and contemplated how he hadn't sat foot in a Church since he was twelve and made his Confirmation, and he wondered if this priest would still be saying his father was in Heaven if he'd known they had been gay, if he had been made aware of all the incest that plagued the walls of the house.

Wilbur looked to his left and saw something strange in the distance. He stood up straight, turned to his left, and then made another 90-degree turn, and he saw a young woman standing away from the action, away from the vision of most people there. It was just family here now. All his father's friends who were present at the church had left them alone by now, and they were supposed to be left alone to grieve, but there she was. He steadily approached her, and halfway there they made eye contact, but she did not flinch. She either didn't get the hint that she wasn't welcome, or didn't care.

"Who are you?" He'd gotten extremely close to her. They were far enough away that if they kept their voices down, no one would be disturbed. Looking her over, he took note of how young she was. She was in her late twenties, he capped the possible age at thirty-one. She was pretty, with long brown hair that had streaks of blonde running through it. He couldn't tell if it was natural or not. Her eyes were brown, a tint lighter than her hair, and she was slender, which, given how his father's inventions had made people more lazy, was strange to see. She took him in and paused for a moment, as if her response would have to be perfect.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be here." Her voice was almost melodious. "My name's Rachael. I just wanted to see you."

This statement took him by surprise. "See _me_?" He raised his voice unintentionally on "me" and nervously turned his head to see if anyone had been disturbed. They were all leaning against each other and no one seemed to notice what he was doing.

"Yes, you," she affirmed. "I know this is going to be a difficult time for your family, but mostly you, being he was your father and all." Wilbur had to stop himself from shivering at that word. He hated it. He hated how everyone had to keep reminding him of the situation he'd found himself in.

"Yeah, thanks," he answered weakly. "I appreciate the concern, but I really don't need anyone to talk to."

"No, it's just some advice," she added before he could take a proper breath.

"Advice? What are you, a psychiatrist?"

"Well, no, not really, I j-" She was started to shuffle her feet a bit due to rising anxiety.

"Then who are _you _to be giving me advice?" Again, he raised his voice a bit, but he didn't bother to look back this time.

"Just listen, okay?" She was persistent, and she was going to be heard. "I know this will be a difficult time, that's normal. Just remember though, that if you do anything stupid, you can't run away from it. You have to own up to it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not in control of yourself right now."

"I'm in perfect control!" This time his words came out as a shout, and he didn't even have to turn around to know that all his family members had turned to look at him. He saw her glance over his shoulder and let out a gasp, and her eyes became wide like a deer caught in headlights. And she immediately knelt down by one of the nearby tombstones and pretended to be mourning a loved one. Wilbur waited for a minute or two, and when he sensed no one was looking in his direction anymore, he glanced down at her, as if signaling her that the coast was clear, and their argument could continue, but he sensed she had become like a scared child, terrified of being caught, and when he knew she wouldn't take up the offer to continue, he turned and walked back to his family, half relieved. No one asked him what had just happened, they were all exhausted and didn't care enough. They probably thought they were just hallucinating due to the fatigue enveloping the household. Wilbur, however, knew he had questions to ask someone, but that person was thirty years behind him.

He left the cemetery ahead of the others, and took the bus home. He figured he would skip the formalities with the priest he couldn't be bothered to learn the name of and probably would never see again. He was about to take Laslo's car, but he stopped short. It just wasn't the day to inconvenience his family. He surprised himself by actually running up to the garage. This whole day, he'd been lifeless, but now it was time to see Lewis. Jumping into the time machine, he checked the time: it was noon. He knew that right now Lewis would be checking the status of the machine in his own garage thirty years back. A machine like that, and especially one that was now aging, had to be checked regularly. He turned on the machine, skipped entering the coordinates because his start and his destination were the same place, entered the date, and found himself where he wanted to be. He ended up a few feet away from Lewis's own machine, and did not have to make much effort to be noticed.

"Wilbur!" Lewis looked up, and Wilbur was surprised to see the excitement in his eyes. He'd expected him to be mad about another surprise visit. "To what do I owe the surprise?"

"I had to see you," Wilbur replied, almost rushing the words out. He jumped out of the time machine. He had already been close, but now the space between them was nonexistent. He felt Lewis gingerly place one hand on either side of his waist, and turn him around, pulling him closer, which was surprisingly possible, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's waist." You know, I love you, but you have to stop these surprise visits." He tried to be firm, tried to scold him, but it came out so lovingly, and he forgot he was trying to be stern, and turned his head to place his lips upon the side of Wilbur's neck. Wilbur didn't protest. He had wanted to be all business and face him for a proper discussion, but this was okay, too. He'd missed this, and with his father gone he needed it even more, but he couldn't let himself get carried away. He bit his lip and threw his head back and grimaced because it frustrated him to know that there were people upstairs and if he tried anything they would hear it. "I had to see you."

"What for?" Lewis was trying to take him seriously, but he let his right hand travel a little lower instead of quitting while he was ahead. It made Wilbur a bit mad he wasn't being listened to, that Lewis was trying to tease him when he knew very well they couldn't deliver here, and he let out a sigh that was half angry. "Could you not touch me right now?" He felt the hand on him freeze, then thought again and felt bad that his words had come out so harsh. "Sorry, Lewis." He now tried to take it back. "It's just, you know we can't do anything with them home and I came here to ask you something."

"It's okay." Lewis unwrapped his hands from around Wilbur. "I understand." He watched Wilbur turn around to face him, collect himself, and then look him in the eyes, seemingly ready for business, but he was taken by surprise when the gap between them closed once again, and Wilbur pulled him into a bear hug.

"I'm so sorry, Lewis. I just had to see you." He was crying now, but his grip loosened up enough for Lewis to be able to pull him away and help him get back on his feet. Wilbur looked down, took a deep, audible breath, and said quietly, "The funeral was today."

"Oh." Lewis's response was quiet, but it was quiet because he wanted to be sympathetic. His reaction did not sound like one which came from someone who could now mark on a calendar the date of his death. It did not faze him. He wasn't quiet because he mourned his own life. He was quiet because he knew the fact he had just learned undoubtedly caused Wilbur great pain.

"How was it?" He knew it was a stupid question, but he knew that the best thing to do for someone in this situation was talk about the loss and not ignore it.

"Fine, I guess. Something really weird happened at the cemetery, though."

"Really, what?" Lewis's voice went a tad higher in pitch out of genuine interest.

"Well, the services were private. The media and public weren't allowed in, and when we went to the cemetery, I was kind of cut off from the others. I didn't want to be connected to them. I-'' He stopped, and realized he had just made it sound like he wanted nothing to do with Lewis's funeral. He made sure to look him in the eye when continuing. "It's not the way it sounds, Lewis. I just, I needed to be alone, and the last place I wanted to be was around a priest. They don't understand-'' No words interrupted him, but he felt a hand place itself lightly on his arm, and he accepted the innocent touch. "Anyway, I was kind of away from them, and I saw this girl in the back, pretty, brown hair, brown eyes, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one max. She said her name was Rachael. I don't know who she was, it was just strange that she was there."

"Did she say anything?" The hand moved slightly up his arm in encouragement.

"Yeah, she did. She said I wasn't in control of myself right now. She said…she said that if I do anything stupid, I should own up to it. I came to see you because, because I was wondering if, I don't know, you had any idea who she was, what she could be talking about. Maybe my younger self messed up the time stream somehow?"

"I honestly wouldn't know, Wilbur." Lewis sounded genuinely sorry that he couldn't help. "You're thirty years ahead of me. If she's the age you're saying she is, well, I don't know anyone who's just had a baby."

"Oh, yeah, you're right." Wilbur's face fell. "I just did the math. Sorry I bothered you, Lewis."

"No, it's actually good you came." Lewis smiled and tried to make him feel better, even though his quest had led him nowhere. "The concert was actually pushed back to eight. So get here eight-thirty just to be safe."

"Your excuse?"

Lewis laughed and responded, "Work." But the moment was cut short, and he caught Wilbur just as he broke into sobs and collapsed against his body weight. "I'm so scared Lewis. I'm so scared because I know exactly when I'll lose you."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, wow this chapter is late. I had a long, kind of depressing summer and just wasn't up to writing. I started at NYU in September and that has been going okay. I'll try to consistently update on the weekends, because that's when I'll have the time to write now. You may start hating me by the time this chapter is over. I apologize. *Puts on bulletproof vest***

Chapter 5

The days after the funeral dragged as expected. That day, Saturday, many people from around the neighborhood came to knock on the door and offer condolences for the third, fourth, or fifth time. Strangers from places Wilbur didn't care to remember showed up and awkwardly introduced themselves, and said they just wished they could've met Cornelius.

_Lewis, you morons, _Wilbur muttered under his breath. _His name was Lewis._

He didn't care to hear the stories they shared, the ones they gave when Franny or Tallulah or someone would try to break the awkward silence after the expression of sorrows. They would always ask the person, "Where are you from?" And then have to hear the life story of the stranger at the door.

Wilbur knew none of these people really cared about Lewis. They cared about the public figure Cornelius had become. The cared about the idea of him, and all the wonderful things he created, but when it came to him as a man, they had no feelings for him. They had none, and Wilbur had way too many.

He couldn't share the feelings within him with his family, because they wouldn't understand. They'd label his father as a rapist who took advantage of his son, and Wilbur knew Lewis had never done anything to him without his full and complete consent. He wouldn't let the memory of him be dragged in the mud like that. Another part of him didn't tell them because he knew someone in the house had to stay strong through this, and no one else was going to, and for this reason he vowed to never publicly show his weakness. If he cried, it was alone, in his own room, when everyone else was asleep.

On Tuesday, his father's old company was having a memorial service. Of course, Cornelius's widow, her brothers, niece, and nephew were the guests of honor, and Wilbur, his only child, was to be the speaker, but he had declined the offer. He knew it looked bad, but these men wanted him to speak of their founder in a paternal way, and he couldn't do that. They saw Cornelius as a father, someone who had led them and nurtured their endeavors even into his retirement, and they wanted this symbolism to be acknowledged through the presence of his true son, but Wilbur couldn't do it: He cringed just thinking about Lewis's fatherly side. Of course, the other reason he refused was that this service ran late, and he had a Lewis who was very much alive who would be waiting for him at eight-thirty. He had no plans of missing their night together.

"Are you sure you won't come, Wilbur?" Franny was halfway out the door and still trying to get him to come. "They'd love to have you there…you don't have to have a speech planned. Just say what comes to mind…let it come from your heart."

_You can't handle the feelings I have for him there._

"No, Mom, I really can't come." He was trying his hardest to get her out of the door as quickly as possible. He wanted some time alone, to let out all the emotions about his father's death he had bottled inside. "I have plans."

He saw her face fall. He saw the disappointment. But he saw a reluctant acceptance, too. Him being distant was nothing new.

"Alright," she said, like a child accepting that she had to go to the dentist. "If you change your mind, you know how to get there. I'm sure they could accommodate a late arrival." She looked him in the eyes, and hoped to see that he had given in, but she saw that he was firm in his decision. He felt bad, but he'd chosen Lewis over his mother a long time ago. He defied his mother every time he shared a bed with Lewis. And he was okay with that in every way.

At three o' clock, about a half hour after his family had left for the service, there was a knock on the door. The sea of well-wishers had subsided by now, and the knock startled him. He almost didn't answer. He thought they'd just go away if no one came to the door right away. They were strangers, and probably wouldn't feel comfortable enough to be persistent.

There was a second knock.

Again, Wilbur contemplated just sitting there, but he decided that he didn't want to hear them knock a third time, and approached the door. Opening it, he saw not strangers, but three old friends from high school.

"Hey!" The greeting was too cheery for Wilbur to handle. "What's up?" he recognized the voice, and the face, as belonging to his old friend Nathan. They had become relatively close in junior year of high school, back when Wilbur had been searching for parties to go to to help numb the pain of the infamous sixteenth birthday occurrence. Nathan had been one of those kids who always managed to find the parties, the trouble. Wilbur had not gotten close to anyone after Lewis, but Nathan was the closest thing he had to a friend. The numb feeling he provided kept Wilbur alive.

"Hi." He tried to put some life in it. He tried to find his youth again upon seeing his former high school classmate.

"How are you?" The voice belonged to Charlie, another kid who had been in on all the high school parties.

The question irritated Wilbur greatly. "I just lost my father." It was a sharp response, one that did not hide his irritation.

"Yeah, we heard," Nathan answered, allowing sympathy to creep into his voice. "We're really sorry." The other two men nodded, one of which hadn't spoken a single syllable to Wilbur yet, and he felt disgust.

_You're standing in my doorway and you don't even acknowledge me? My father just died and you respond with 'we heard?' All three of you can't speak for yourselves?! _He felt disgusted, and felt as the fiery rage built up in his chest, and threatened to come out, but instead of letting it all tumble out, he just uttered a sheepish, "Thank you." His body remembered it was still tired from last night's tears, and he couldn't handle anything that required passion.

"We, um," this voice belonged to Emmett, the only person who hadn't yet said a word. "We actually came out to invite you somewhere tonight. My cousin, she's twenty, his parents left town for the day and won't be back until tomorrow night, and you know, tomorrow's Christmas Eve and everyone has off, so we thought we'd crash it."

With all the pain that inhabited the house that week, Wilbur had forgotten that Christmas was two days away. His own home wasn't very festive, and now, this party…

He was in a way appalled by how immature these "friends" of his were. They were entering their late forties and crashing a college party, to get drunk with all the college kids before they caught their planes the next morning. Of course, there was also the issue of Lewis. If Wilbur went tonight, he knew he couldn't stay long.

He glanced back into the house. He saw its lifelessness, and suddenly became very conscious of the way it was choking him, and it sickened him.

"Okay, but I can only stay until eight.'

Later on, Wilbur greatly questioned his decision. He feared this backfiring, going sour, dragging him back into a life he didn't want, but then he snapped himself out of it on the basis that he had Lewis. He'd partied in high school and well into college to get over what he couldn't have, and as long as he had that, he considered himself safe. Besides, wouldn't the kids see the adults coming and hide everything? Or, they would, if this were the first time Emmett had crashed one of his cousin's parties. He met them at a bus stop at 6:30 with an odd feeling of anticipation he couldn't explain, although maybe it was just unease due to the fact that as he left his house he felt he was being watched, and when he turned he wasn't saw if he saw a figure descend into the shadows or not.

They were already at the bus stop when he arrived, and he had to commend them for one thing: at least they weren't driving.

"There you are," Nathan greeted him, as if they had never stopped talking after graduation and were the best of friends. "We were beginning to think you'd be late."

"Maybe I was and I just used the time machine to fix it." He felt himself losing his edge, and was a bit surprised by how laidback he was getting.

"Wouldn't we still remember you being late, though? Eh, whatever, you never did explain how that thing worked."

Wilbur bit his lip and hoped they didn't notice. Mentioning the time machine always made him a bit anxious. "You never asked me to."

"You went away to college before I could!" It was playful. He'd picked up the fact that Wilbur was letting go. "Anyway, I think there's someone here I need to reintroduce you to." Wilbur noticed the woman who was with them for the first time. She stepped closer to Nathan, and smiled at Wilbur as if she knew him, although he couldn't place her. "You remember my sister Courtney?" The woman held out her hand for Wilbur to shake, and he took hold of it when his brain processed what Nathan had said. He did remember her, although they'd maybe talked once. She was Nathan's kid sister, eight years younger than them. The last time he'd seen her, she was about to celebrate her tenth birthday, and now she was a few months shy of forty.

"Yeah, I do," he responded, but it was a bit too late for the answer to be relevant, and it hung in the air awkwardly. "How have you been?"

"I've been good!" She answered. It was almost a shout, and it filled the otherwise silent night awkwardly, complimenting Wilbur's own previous statement. The way she answered, it was a bit too enthusiastic for his liking. "I um," she spoke lower this time, realizing her volume from the previous statement wasn't welcome at the moment. "I don't usually come to things like this, but Nathan told me you'd be coming and I didn't want to miss the special occasion." She smiled, and continued, "It's been so long. You became kind of a legend around here when you left-"

Wilbur suddenly felt very uncomfortable with where this was going, and cut her off. "Yeah, I needed a change. This place, it wasn't really good for me." The bus came, and he saw it as an opportunity to change the subject. "So, my story isn't that interesting. What's yours?"

"Oh, I've always been here. I think it fits me well, and I could never leave my parents." They boarded the bus and went to the back, where they found five empty seats. Three of them were on the left side, and Nathan, Charlie, and Emmett jumped over to them to continue their own conversation. The other two, directly across, made Wilbur a bit uncomfortable to think about. He didn't want to sit alone with her and give her the wrong idea, but he had learned that on crowded buses you took what you could find. "So I stayed here for college, and that's basically it," she finished.

"What did you take up?"

"Business. I run my own company now." Her face lit up at this, and when she continued the smile remained on her face. "Of course, it's small. Not nearly as big as your father's, but-''

He did not cut her off, but tuned her out at the mention of his father. He tried to deal with his mixed emotions. First the need to cry seized him knowing he wouldn't come home tonight to the one everyone called Cornelius, but he knew as Lewis, but then the joy started to seep through the cracks as he remembered what waited for him in just ninety minutes.

"Yeah, that company of his, it's really something, isn't it?"

"It is. Your father was a genius." Her tone softened for a moment and she added, "I'm so sorry for your loss, Wilbur, he really was a great man."

_Yeah, I know._

"You should, you should take over the business. I'm sure he would've loved that."

"No, I can't do that," Wilbur answered. "I'd never be smart enough. I'd never be good enough." He turned to see her eyes look up at him with the greatest understanding and sympathy, but also great disagreement, and just as she was going to speak, the bus stopped. It was rather sudden, and he swayed into her before being able to balance his body upright again.

"This is us," Emmett said matter-of-factly, and Wilbur noticed that they were in the rich part of town, just outside the city, where the houses were further apart. He didn't know Emmett's family had so much money.

He swore he could smell the alcohol even in the front yard, and the exhibition in the house would support his claim. He saw beer, wine, liquor, expensive champagnes, and he almost gawked at the wealth that exuded from the place. His family had money, but Wilbur felt their small fortune from years of inventing was dwarfed by this family, and it almost made him angry. Lewis spent days and nights working on his inventions, putting so much effort into it, and he would never touch this level of wealth. Sometimes he would even work when Wilbur was over, getting an idea in the middle of the night, working before it fled, and ignoring his partner's request to let it be and come back to bed, and sometimes it hurt. He knew that was just what he did, but, still…

Emmett caught up to his cousin Dana, worked through a rushed introduction Wilbur only caught half of, and then the group disbanded, probably to find people to hook up with in the vacant rooms upstairs. But Courtney stayed close-by, marveling the collection of beverages before them. She started to walk forward, and initially Wilbur let her go, but then followed her. A part of him still saw her as his friend's kid sister, and he felt someone should stay with her. This odd feel of protectiveness came over him when he thought of leaving her in a room full of drunken men.

"Nice collection they have here, right?" he said, catching up to her and passing his gaze around the room of assorted beverages.

"Yeah," she said. She'd worked her way to the kitchen, picked two bottles up that were on the floor, opened the fridge and took two colder bottles out, and put the two warmer ones in.

"You drink?" She handed him one of the bottles.

"Not really, not anymore."

"Neither do I, but I need this Christmas break so bad." She noticed he wasn't taking it, and put the bottle she'd offered on the table, and opened her own.

The mention of Christmas made Wilbur think of how vacant the house would now be on one of the happiest days of the year, and he reached for the bottle as the pain overtook him. He hadn't touched wine in years, but he could probably still handle the time machine if he didn't drink the whole thing.

He thought to himself how weird they must've looked, drinking wine bottles in the kitchen while everyone else wreaked havoc in the living room, but at about 7:30, around the time he found the bottle to be empty, he noticed the noise had settled down a bit. Catching Emmett, he asked about the way the sound was dying down.

"I don't know, a couple of people went upstairs, hooked up, I guess." For a split second, his eyes darted up at the two of them, and when he saw the empty bottles a small grin inhabited his mouth for half a second. "Half fun, you guys," and he walked away.

"What a clown," Wilbur said disgustedly. He was glad he had an excuse to leave waiting for him in just twenty-five minutes. "I honestly don't know why I came here." He'd finished half of a second bottle, and felt like the alcohol was taking over, but didn't let her know it. He didn't want to be left alone with his rambling mind.

She left the kitchen, and he followed, feeling more like a puppy than a bodyguard. She'd had just as much to drink as he did, and he wanted to make sure she'd be okay until they could find where her brother went. Approaching the stairs, they heard what sounded like a bang coming from one of the rooms, and she turned to face him with a questioning look. "Did you hear that?" He had, and nodded, and he followed her upstairs, but when he saw all the closed doors he knew they wouldn't be able to find out what had happened.

He followed her down the dimly lit hallway, past six rooms, and watched her stop by the doorway of an empty one. He stopped walking, getting a terribly bad feeling when he saw her go in, but he saw not an act of seduction, but an act of innocence when he caught up to her. They must've kept all these rooms furnished for guests, and he saw her pick up a small snow globe.

"I always wanted one of these when I was little," she said so sentimentally.

He walked in and stood beside her. "A snow globe?"

"It's not just an ordinary snow globe," she answered, not in an irritated way, but in a soothing manner. "There are three small unicorn figurines in there, see? And when you shake it," she shook the globe in demonstration, "It looks like the unicorns are running. God, I would've been so cool if I had gotten one of these." They laughed, and as they settled down their heads had turned to face each other. She smiled, and met him in a kiss, putting the snow globe down. She cupped his face with her hands as Wilbur allowed his own hands to do some exploration down her body. He remembered that he'd been feeling depressed tonight but couldn't remember what it was over. He didn't feel it now. This mindless thing, this act, it distracted him from that pain. His body, not his mind, was in control. He felt her lean back, and when he realized he was now on top of her on the bed he gave no cry of objection, laughed and kissed her again.

It was 8 o' clock, but he had nowhere to be and gave in to the warmth of her body.

**A/N: Please don't kill me…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, I'm just going to let this chapter speak for itself. This may be a bit short. I didn't want to combine it with what I have planned for chapter 7, so I'll just leave this to stand on its own. Also, I'm partially writing this so soon after the last chapter because I already got two reviews for that (shout out to you, lovely people) and that made me very happy. So I won't threaten you and say I won't update if I don't get reviews, but reviews are motivation, and I love love love hearing from my readers, so please don't hesitate to review. It may make me want to update sooner to make you happy. Also, to my latest reviewer, if you're freaking out now just wait until you see what I have planned. ;)**

Chapter 6

Wilbur woke up to the morning sun flooding through the bedroom. Whatever had happened last night, apparently it had happened too quickly for him to even close the curtains. They were wide open, one on either side of the window, or, at least that's what he could tell out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to, or just couldn't sit up just yet. It was all a blur. He knew had a headache. He knew he'd been drinking. He knew that sometime last night the alcohol had kicked in and that's why he couldn't remember what had happened. His hangover was the only thing that remained. Not even his clothes…

_Shit._

He now became fully aware that all his clothes were off, although he couldn't remember where he'd put them. Had he…? Had he really lost all control that he'd…? He realized it was now time to get up and put the pieces together from the night before. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. He didn't know how to deal with this. He'd never had a one night stand before. He'd been to some wild parties in college, but he always left before he got to that point where he'd sleep with a random person. He always knew when to quit. He turned his head, and gathered that, from the nudity of the person fast asleep next to him, he hadn't done that this time. He wondered if he should wake her up, or if it would just be a bad idea. He wondered if she'd remember the night better than he did, or if she'd have no recollection at all and start screaming upon being woken up. He decided it wasn't worth the effort, or the risk that came with it. Instead, he reached for his phone. It was Christmas Eve, a Wednesday, although he only remembered that when he reached for his phone and pressed the home button. There was one missed call from his mother, but that was it. She'd probably realized after he didn't pick the first time that there was no use trying again. Underneath that, there was a calendar reminder. He smiled when he saw it, because he saw it as a way to give him some context, some gravity, a sense of what was happening. He clicked it, and saw it was from the previous night. The reminder itself was only one word, a single name: _Lewis._

An angry sound he couldn't quite identify escaped his mouth as he slammed it back down on the wooden table next to the bed. He'd been so intoxicated he'd forgotten that he was supposed to meet Lewis last night, and if he'd forgotten because he was drunk, then Lewis had probably never been notified, and worst of all, probably waited all night for him. His face contorted into one of anguish at the thought, and he lowered his head so that it could be cupped into the palm of his hand.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!_

He felt the sheets on the other side being ruffled, and heard the creaking sound of someone turning over, and another one that was presumably her getting up. He wondered why he was still here. He should've left the moment he got up. He didn't want to talk about the previous night with her. He didn't want to talk about what came next, because there was no "next." If he had has way, he'd never see her again after this.

"Hi, Wilbur." Her greeting did not have an angry quality, but was not exactly friendly, either. It was a bit tense, stern. He could say she said it with a straight face. It was not the way you'd great someone you loved. It was just a greeting which lacked emotions. He sat there without moving, facing forward, although she had turned her head and was facing him.

"Hi," he said, in a way that matched her emotionless wake-up. Now that he had been awake for a few minutes, scattered details were starting to come back. He'd traveled with Courtney, her brother, and two of his friends to this house, the house of a cousin whose parents weren't home and would arrive home later today. _What did this person think of them, the strangers sleeping in the spare bedroom? _They'd both been drinking, and no one was to blame for what happened. Their union was not the result of one person seducing the other. They were just two people who had had too much to drink. Details of the sex came back in pieces, although this was what he wanted to forget most. He didn't think of it as spectacular or passionate. Maybe he had said her name, but it was only because that was just what you did in this stuff. Their bodies had led them into something purely mechanical, and neither of them was into it. At this point, it was just something that had happened, and that was it.

"Wilbur, did we-?" This time her voice had emotion. She was curious with a touch of concern.

"Yes," he said. His voice was still void of all emotion. "Yes, we did."

"We did." Her affirmation was low, and she nodded in verification. She knew he spoke the truth. "Oh, I can't believe I did this!" She turned her body ninety degrees so her back faced his left side and her feet touched the floor. She took three quarters of the blanket with her. Wilbur felt it slip off his body, but didn't protest despite his own lack of clothing. He was too numb. She, on the other hand, wrapped the blanket around herself, to the point where it was almost up to her neck in front and draped behind her in back. She turned around, trying to get it to enclose her back, too, but she couldn't make the ends stay together, and in a huff turned her face forward again. She leaned her head forward in dismay and ran her fingers through her hair.

"It's fine, it's done," Wilbur offered, and he too turned, but did not stay motionless, as she did. Instead, he leaned over and felt underneath the bed for his clothes. "There's just nothing we can do about it." His statement hung in the air, and she offered no response. He awkwardly searched for his clothes for about thirty more seconds, and found the separate articles of clothing to be surprisingly close to the middle of the mattress.

_How does that even happen?_

He got up, half embarrassed that he had actually taken his underwear off last night in the presence of someone other than Lewis, half angry at himself, and started to get dressed. He figured it was better to face her back than the open window he hadn't the energy to close, and as he pulled his pants up he started to talk to her again.

"Listen, Courtney. I know you probably think I'm sleazy or something, or blame yourself or whatever, but the fact is we were just two people who had way too much to drink. And I'm not going to expect a relationship from you because of one mistake." He was in a rush to get out, and put his shirt on as he walked around the bed in an effort to make eye contact with her for the last part of his speech. "I don't want to hold you to anything, because you shouldn't have to pay for this."

"Yeah," she said, and there was suddenly great concern on her face. She seemed almost scared for about a second, and then wiped the look off her face. Whatever she was worried about, it wasn't great enough for her to bring it up to him. "Yeah, I get that." She looked him in the eyes, and they seemed to have a mutual agreement, and the tension in the room eased up.

"Are you coming?" Wilbur angled his head toward the door to let her know he meant downstairs. "I figure we should leave together." He was thinking of his reputation here, but also thinking about her. If he left alone, leaving her still undressed in the bedroom, it would seem like he had used her. At the same time, he didn't want _her_ to feel as if she'd been used, and therefore suggested they leave together as a way to show that he cared about her as a person. He wanted to make it very clear he didn't see her as a sex object, not just because he respected her, but because when he was sober, he was not attracted to her, and he wanted to make sure this wouldn't happen again.

"Oh, yeah. Could you-?" After what had transpired between them, the modesty in the room was ironic, but he nodded and turned around, honoring her wish for some sort of privacy. While she got dressed, he had nothing to do but stare at the blank walls. As soon as he got home, he would have to get in the time machine and see Lewis. He knew everyone would be home now because of the holiday, but he just had to know where they stood. He had to make sure Lewis wasn't mad at him. He had to apologize. He decided that he would not divulge the real reason he had not come over the night before. That would cause an unnecessary pain. Lewis would feel cheated on and hurt, and he didn't need to. It was not an act of conscious cheating, and it would never happen again, so why go through that? In fact, Wilbur himself planned on forgetting that this had ever happened. There was no reason to remember it. Courtney was a nice person, but she just wasn't the person he wanted to be with his whole life.

"Okay," she said, breaking the silence. "Let's go." She walked toward the door, and opened it before he could walk over to it. He was glad to be out of this room. It felt so strange. It felt like a prison. Something had happened here, but if felt like it took place many years ago. He felt so removed from the night's events. He walked out and stood in what seemed like an endless hallway. He could see the stairs at the end of it, and suddenly he thought of all the other people who had been here last night. Had anyone else spent the night here out of drunken madness? His eyes darted up the hallway in an attempt to answer his inquiry. He smirked when he saw two out of four doors closed. He wondered what their story was. Misery loves company. Then he felt remorse. Would someone else, someone in one of those rooms, wake up realizing they had cheated on their beloved? He felt guilty for finding the closed doors to be amusing.

She had been confused for a moment, not sure whether to leave the door open or closed. She swung it back and forth a few times, almost locking it, then almost leaving it wide open, almost locking it again, and then leaving the room wide open. She didn't want Dana to assume someone was still in there. _Someone. _She was already referring to herself as singular, without Wilbur. She approached him, noticing that he had waited for her before going down the stairs. He was right. To show maturity and dignity, they had to leave together. They had to show that they were responsible adults that owned up to their actions and didn't try to ignore each other after hooking up. As a bonus, if they seemed to be in good spirits upon leaving, maybe they could convince her that it hadn't even been a hook-up. Maybe they could pass as a fully committed couple which was beyond frivolous things such as college party hook-ups.

_Yeah, right_, she sarcastically remarked to herself. _She's going to know what happened._

They walked through the hallway in silence. All they could hear was the sound of one another's breathing. Now that it had been established that they meant each other no harm, that they saw each other as people and not as objects, there was no need to speak again. It was the morning after, and it was awkward. They were both embarrassed for themselves, that they shared such intimate parts of themselves with each other without knowing it, and the fact that the other person's memory of the event was blurry was not comforting, although logically it should have been, because the person couldn't remember those same intimate moments that caused the embarrassment.

What was logic, anyway? Wilbur cursed his mind for trying to be philosophical now, but the silence was less awkward if he filled it with thoughts, or if he even just pretended to. It was like those moments in high school when the teacher would call on you because you weren't paying attention, and you had no idea what to say, but instead of looking like an idiot you pretended you were thinking. Logic. Clearly if he had any he wouldn't have come here, wouldn't have had so much to drink, wouldn't have cheated on Lewis. Intentional or not, that's what had happened. With every step he took he got closer and closer to his house, where he would have to get in the time machine and try to beg for mercy, and walking down the stairs felt like walking into Hell, a Hell which he had created for himself.

At the bottom of the steps, he looked to his left, and then his right, searching for the owner of the house, or rather, the representative of the owners, so he could leave with some dignity. The living room was surprisingly intact. Anyone who could've been a threat to the house's wholeness had gone upstairs right as the drinks kicked in, wreaking havoc in a bedroom before they could do so in the living room. He suddenly became aware of the sound of running water in the kitchen, and turned to face his partner in this walk of shame.

"This way," he said, breaking the silence. He didn't need to say this. She could hear it, too. He was just desperate to have some sort of control right now.

They walked into the kitchen, and he thought up what he would say to their host. It had to come from him. He would open his mouth as soon as Dana had come into view, so Courtney did not have a chance to start. Luckily, he did not have to put much effort into being the first to speak, because when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, Dana put the dish she was washing down, and turned to face him.

"Oh," she said, wiping her hands on the washcloth. "Nice to see you're awake."

Wilbur felt his face grow hot and red. He was ashamed that what he had done last night was so obvious, and that it had been done in someone's house.

"Look," he started. "I um, I'm s-"

"Oh, no, no need to apologize," she said, turning back around to resume her chores. "I know when I throw things like this that it's just natural for people to do certain things under these circumstances. I _completely_ embrace that fact and acknowledge it. I didn't wake you up, after all. _But _my house isn't a motel and my parents will be home soon, so unless you want to help with dishes it would be great if you could just leave."

He realized now that he wasn't going to be able to express how sorry he was, or clarify that he really wasn't one who was into hooking up at parties and that this was just a freak thing. His dignity would have to stay tainted.

"Okay," he said in acceptance. "Come on, Courtney. Let's go." He turned around, and she followed, but as he was about to exit the house, he heard a voice call after him.

"Wilbur?" he turned his head toward the entryway to the kitchen, and saw that once again, Dana faced him. Her voice was nicer now, sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your father."

"Thanks," he mumbled, and left.

They rode the bus together in complete silence; all the while Wilbur had his mind somewhere else. In his mind he was back thirty years and asking Lewis for forgiveness, and he went through all the scenarios he could come up with. If he just apologized, and Lewis forgave him, that would seem like a miracle. If it took some coercing, he could deal with it, but if Lewis threatened to leave him, well, he was prepared to beg. He'd already embarrassed himself once in the past twenty-four hours. Getting off the bus, they parted ways. They nodded at each other, mumbled half-hearted good-byes, and he walked over to his house.

He fumbled with the garage keys, before successfully opening the door. It crossed his mind for a moment that maybe he should check in with his family first, but every second counted now. Maybe it would all be okay, but one second difference could ruin that. He could be on thin ice, and the sooner he saw Lewis, the better. Besides, it wasn't like Lewis, the older one he had lived with until just last week, was waiting upstairs. It was now almost noon, and if he was going to make a difference in the situation, he had to get on it.

The trip to Lewis's time was, as usual, only a few seconds long, and he was glad about this, because he didn't trust his driving with this headache that, although dull, was still present. He listened for any noise that may be upstairs, which may tell him where it was safe to go, and where it wasn't, and then he remembered that Lewis would be alone upstairs. Anytime there was a big event, Lewis would be the one decorating the house, coming up with creative ideas to brighten the place up, and on Christmas Eve, he did it in the morning. Everyone else slept late on holidays, but he would have to hurry, because they'd be waking up soon. He just counted himself lucky that Christmas Day was their day to wake up early, and he had come by on the late day.

He hopped out of the time machine and walked to where the travel tube was. He knew he was taking a chance now. On the off chance his family was awake, popping up in the middle of the living room would mean getting caught, but by now he didn't care. He just had to see Lewis. If he were caught, if they all just stared as he popped up from the tube, before he could do anything that would give them away, he could just say he wanted to relive this special Christmas Eve or something. It would be such a lie, if he had to utter those words. This day had been terrible so far, and if he ended up wanting to relive anything from it, it would be the moment he redeemed himself and got to embrace Lewis again, but he doubted that would happen.

The next thing he knew, he was standing on the rug in the living room. He got ready to look around, to search for Lewis, but he found he didn't have to. He must've heard the noise the top of the transporter made when it opened, and he's turned around, and, much to Wilbur's surprise, he was smiling, and walking over to him.

"Wilbur!" It was hushed, so no one would wake up, but his greeting was one of excitement followed by a loving embrace, and then the rest came out as a rushed outburst. "I missed you last night. What happened? Is something wrong? Are you okay?" Then he realized where he was. "We should probably go down to the garage to talk…you don't want to take any chances with them…I'm sorry, I'm not letting you answer. Downstairs you have to tell me everything." He went down the tube, and Wilbur waited fifteen seconds before he went, so as not to cause a traffic jam, and when he got down, he prepared his explanation.

"So, back to my question," Lewis said. "What happened last night?" He didn't sound angry at all.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Lewis, I…I was sick." He felt so guilty for the lie, but how could he tell the truth? How could he hurt him like that?

"Oh, you were?" He seemed to evaluate the man in front of him for a moment, and then added, "Yeah, you do look a bit pale. Why don't you, why don't you stay here, Wilbur?"

"What? That's crazy. Everyone's here."

"You can stay in the guest room and I'll keep them distracted for as long as you need it." He placed the palm of his hand on Wilbur's forehead and frowned. "Gee, you do feel a bit warm. What exactly is wrong? Are you light headed? Dizzy?" He paused, grew more concerned and added, "Vomiting?"

"I can't stay here, Lewis." He felt so guilty that Lewis was so concerned over the imaginary illness. "They'll catch us, they-"

"I don't care, Wilbur," he retorted, almost irritated now, but not at him, at the people upstairs. "I'm not worried about them now. I don't want you going back if you're sick. Even if it is barely even a drive. You should just be resting." He paused again, and a smirk appeared on his face. "And who knows?" His voice was lower now, sensual. "If I can get them out of the house, we can-" He stopped, and placed his lips on Wilbur's neck. He knew he shouldn't. he knew that that was such a sensitive area for him, but he found it irresistible, and it was that fact, that thought that all Lewis ever wanted to do was please him, that made Wilbur tense up in anguish.

Lewis sensed it and looked up, even more concerned, and a little hurt. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just-" He couldn't even look him in the eyes. "I'd feel better if I were home Lewis. If I get really sick, I don't want you seeing me like that."

"But I don't care about that. Just let me take care of you. I lo-" He stopped, and realized by Wilbur's facial expression that what he really wanted was to go home, and he was making him unhappy by insisting he stay.

"I just wanted to come and see you Lewis, to make sure you weren't mad." His tone was a far cry from the rather harsh one he had used just moments earlier.

"No, I'm not. Not at all. I'm just happy to know you're okay." He moved forward, placed him right hand, on Wilbur's left cheek, leaned forward, and kissed him. "Oh, and by the way, you can make it _all_ up to me on Monday. Nine o' clock.

"Franny has another concert?"

"Yeah, she does. Don't you just love this time of year? Holiday shows give us so much time to ourselves." He suddenly looked up at the sound of footsteps overhead. "Looks like I gotta go before they wonder where I am." He planted another kiss on his forehead and then widened the gap between them. "I love you." And he was gone before Wilbur could wonder whether or not he was worthy of reciprocating.

He got in the time machine, and before he could press the button to go home, he broke down in silent sobs. This woman, she'd ruined everything. He cried because of misery. He cried for himself, and he cried for Lewis, who didn't deserve this. He cried because he wasn't good enough, and he cried because he was sick of how they had to be a secret.

But, on a much deeper level, he cried because he was scared, so dreadfully scared.

_It's over. She's gone. She's out of your life and she's never coming back. What the Hell are you so afraid of?_

**A/N: I feel like I owe you guys something after all this distress. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, so I think I said something in my note before chapter 6 that that would be a short chapter, and honestly I don't know what I was thinking because that was thirteen pages when I typed it out. This, on the other hand, probably will be shorter, but I want to give it its own chapter for emphasis. If I finish this by tonight, then this will probably be my last update for at least 7 days. I have a big weekend coming up. I'm going to DC for the commemoration of The Exorcist steps, and then the next day is Halloween and that looks like it will be a busy day, and my weekend next week is packed. So being realistic, I may not update again for two weeks, which is why I'm giving two updates this weekend.**

Chapter 7

It was one week and a day after the party, a Wednesday, and that made it one week after Wilbur had visited Lewis to check the damage, and two days since they had last seen each other. It was early in the morning, about eight o' clock, and all Wilbur could do was lie in bed thinking of how _terrible _that latest meeting had been, not because of anything Lewis had done, but because of himself.

He'd arrived thirty years in the past at nine o' clock on Monday, the exact time Lewis had said to come, and he was on the dot because he wanted to prove to not only Lewis, but to himself, that he was good enough. Yet, his guilt overcame him the moment he saw Lewis, and he was so stiff with a feeling of unworthiness that he kept ruining the mood, and it was a malevolent circle, because although Lewis did whatever Wilbur wanted, and told him that they _could_ dowhatever he wanted, Wilbur felt incredibly bad because Lewis always put what he wanted second for a person who didn't deserve it, and he could try convincing him until he was blue in the face that it was okay, and they could go ahead with it, but Lewis would never do it, because he wasn't comfortable doing anything that he felt Wilbur wasn't one hundred percent into. At this thought, Wilbur turned over onto his stomach and let out a groan of anguish.

_Why do I have to ruin everything?_

So their romantic evening two nights before had been reduced to them lying on the bed in his younger self's room with the television on, providing a low buzz complimentary to their hushed voices in conversation. And Wilbur kept his head on Lewis's chest and tried to calm himself and his jumbled thoughts down by listening to the sound of his heartbeat, but he realized that it beat just a bit faster in his presence. It therefore just ended up being a circle of feeling guilty and guiltier, because his presence there made Lewis feel so happy, but he knew that Lewis deserved so much more, and he didn't even know it.

"How has everyone in your house been?" Lewis seemed to ask the question in an effort to find out how his death would affect his entire family, but it was thinly veiled. Wilbur knew he really wanted to know how he was. He wanted to know how Wilbur was when they weren't together, but he couldn't come out and ask, because he knew Wilbur would hesitate to answer honestly so as not to upset him. He knew he wouldn't openly voice his depression.

"I know what you're really after. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Are you really?"

"Yes, I am." Wilbur actually started to laugh as his concern. He was so much more sensitive, and it was cute. "I do have one question, though."

"And that is?"

"What happened to that late dinner you were going to make me?" He didn't deserve it. He knew he didn't, but he had to try and act normal. He couldn't seem so obvious.

Coming out of his flashback, Wilbur sat up in his bed and decided to walk outside. The room was surprisingly stuffy for New Year's Eve, and it added to his discomfort. He figured he'd just walk around the block, maybe get something to eat. There was nothing going on in his house today. Everyone was still grieving. He wondered how long it would be before they had a normal holiday again, and then realized that would never be the case, because it was Lewis who had lit up the house, and now that he was gone their world was dark. He noticed the lack of decorations in the living room. It had always been his father's job to decorate, and he envied his younger self for a moment, because right now Lewis was decorating the house for him, hoping to please him, and his younger self was so stupid that he wouldn't appreciate it.

He had his coat on, because although the house felt warm, he knew this was probably just the house, and it would be cold out, and he didn't know how long he would be gone. Opening the door, he contemplated where he would go, but then stood motionless on his doorstep. There, on the green lawn of the estate, waiting for him, was the girl from the funeral.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. His greeting to her was as cold as the weather, and although she approached him, he did not move.

"Hi," she said. She sounded like she was apologizing for being there. "I know this is weird, but-" She turned around and looked at the open gate. "The gate was open and I, I just wanted to know how you were."

He suddenly became more irritated with her. "My family leaves the gate open because they think everyone is good. They really shouldn't. But I don't need anyone checking up on me, got it?"

"But I-"

"Rachael, right?" He remembered her telling him her name at the funeral.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Okay, listen, Rachael, I appreciate everyone being so concerned about how I'm taking this, but at the end of the day, I don't know you, you don't know me, and you're not a member of my family, so just leave, okay? I'm good. I'll be fine." She seemed disappointed that they couldn't speak more, but she nodded, accepted that she had been asked by the owner of the house to leave, and exited out the front gate.

_Who is that girl? Why is she so worried about me? _He stood in the doorway, dazed for a moment, and then turned around to go back inside. He suddenly didn't feel like taking a walk anymore. He heard his mother's greeting as soon as he entered the house again.

"Oh, there you are, Wilbur! Who was that you were talking to outside?" His mother was so curious that he wished he could give her an answer. He knew her first name, but nothing more.

"I don't know, Mom," he answered. "I don't know."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, wow. This chapter is the big one. (You've been warned). I also see this chapter as the end of Act 1, because this is where things turn. I will be uploading this, then I will give it time to settle, and then pick up again. Please don't murder me.**

Chapter 8

It had been over a month since Cornelius died, and over a month since the height of Wilbur's depression, and therefore about six weeks since the party. It was now early February, February ninth, and Wilbur had still not told Lewis. He still didn't see how that would help. First of all, he remembered Rachael's words at the funeral.

_If you do anything stupid, you can't run away from it. You have to own up to it._

He didn't know why he took this advice so seriously, because he felt no connection to her, but at the same time, the words made him feel like he'd be less of a man if he undid that night. Of course, there were other factors that made him decide to live with it. Even if he did change that night, he would still remember it. Courtney would forget, but he would be immune to it, and although it would technically be corrected, he would still remember that initially they had slept together and then he had to go back and fix it, and therefore, because he would remember it either way, it didn't matter what he did. Finally, and most importantly and influentially, there was Lewis. Right now he had no clue, but by correcting it, Wilbur would be letting Lewis know something was wrong. He too, would be immune to the change because he had travelled in the time machine so much. If his memory suddenly changed to the point where he remembered spending that night with Wilbur, he would get suspicious as to why it changed, and Wilbur could try and convince him he wanted to make it up to him, but Lewis was smart. He wouldn't buy it. Therefore, he lived with it. It was the only torture he had to live with, at least for the moment.

At this time, the house was just starting to get back to normal. They still felt Cornelius's absence, but things were starting to move on. They were getting used to life without him, and in a way it made Wilbur mad, that they could just go on without him. Yet, normalcy ensued even with his protests. His mother said that she needed to get back up. It wasn't healthy to let the sadness take over. She wasn't forgetting him, just accepting that life had to go on, and so life was returning to how it had been two months ago, with the addition of one thing. Those who remained in the house were beginning to realize how precious their time together was, and they decided they needed to do more family activities. Monday had therefore become Game Day. Day, not night, because everyone was too tired at night, and Monday because everyone felt Monday was the day that needed the most fun added to it, and _that_, Wilbur mulled over in his head for the umpteenth time, was the story of how he came to find himself sitting at the table playing Scrabble at noon on a Monday. He was actually pretty embarrassed by it, although no one could see him now. No reporters had been there in weeks. His father's death was old news to them. It didn't matter anymore, and they no longer peered through the windows. He was embarrassed by it because in just two weeks he would be turning forty-eight, and yet he had to deal with family game days. He contemplated moving out. Lewis had given him everything in the will. He had more than enough to live on. Then he looked over at his mother with a look of pity.

_What if she can't handle me leaving? What if it caused her to die of a broken heart?_

He covered his face with his hands in pure confusion and sadness. He was so unhappy.

"Your turn, Wilbur," Lazlo called to him, but as he reached out for the bag with a sigh of annoyance, he felt his phone vibrate. In that moment, he saw it as a Godsend, a welcome way to be excused from the table. He retracted his hand, and pulled his phone halfway out of his pocket with the other.

"Actually," he started. "My phone's ringing. I should take this." He got up out of his seat and walked into the kitchen before anyone could answer, before he could see Lazlo's sad expression at the interruption, and then he felt a tad guilty because he seemed so eager to leave. Once hidden discreetly in their large kitchen, he took his cell phone out. It wasn't a call, but a voice mail notification. With how loud his house was, he hadn't heard the ring.

_Hm. Unknown Number._

He decided to check who it was anyway, and pressed play, although he regretted it when he heard the voice on the other end.

"Hi, Wilbur, it's Courtney." She paused. Her breathing was heavy and she sounded nervous. "You don't have to worry how I got your number, my brother knows someone who works at your dad's company, and had your cell phone because you guys were in touch after, you know…and he gave it to me. Anyway, I have to see you. There's something you have to know. Can you meet me in the park by your house at three? Five minutes, I promise. If I don't hear back I'll assume you're coming." The message ended, and he suddenly became very nervous, but didn't allow his mind to wander. Instead, he placed his phone back in his pocket and walked back out into the living room.

"Who was that, Wilbur?" Tallulah asked.

"No one," he answered.

.

.

.

At three on the dot, he arrived at the small park a block away from the gates of the estate. He'd contemplated not showing up, but then he found his humanity again, and realized he wasn't cold enough to just have her wait for him. It was a small patch of green with several benches plopped up in the middle of the city, and he knew why she'd chosen this place: Because it was in the middle of the city, each person who passed would rush by and therefore only hear tidbits of their conversation, and the park itself was so small that the amount of people who did stick around would be few. In the corner of his mind he tried so desperately to keep quiet, he knew what she'd say. It had been six weeks since the party. What else _could _it be? Yet, he tried so hard to convince himself that that was the worst case scenario…

"Hi, Wilbur," she greeted him, coming through the opposite entrance. It was neither a friendly nor an angered greeting, it was just there. It reminded him of the way they'd greeted each other after waking up that morning.

"Yeah, hi," he reciprocated, with as little emotion as she had. He saw her stop, and stand directly in front of him. He knew by how close she was that what was to be said was not for the ears around them.

"We should sit," she suggested, and when she saw that he was determined to take it standing, that he just wanted it over with and her to be gone, she added, "No, you need to take this sitting down." Their eyes met and locked, and she knew she had to say no more, yet he proceeded to sit down next to her, so close so their voices didn't travel far. Their legs came to touch as they sat next to each other on the bench, facing each other, and they both knew now that this was far from the closest they had ever been to each other, body wise.

"Wilbur, I," she started and stopped. Her eyes wandered to a tree to the left. It became hard to look him in the eyes. And then, with a swift turn, she allowed their eyes to lock again, her face became serious, almost like the expression of a mother who was about to scold her child, and she rushed out the rest.

"I'm pregnant."

Her words hit him like a brick wall, and he moved back. He separated the distance between them as if he really had been pushed back. He knew it. He knew what this would be when she called, yet it took his breath away.

_But, what about Lewis?_ Yes, the first thing he thought of upon hearing he'd be a father was his lover who had been dishonored by this child's conception. No, this couldn't be happening.

"How?" He asked. _What a stupid question._

"What do you mean _how_?" Her voice was full of irritation. "You know how." Then she paused, and got sentimental for a moment. "You said it yourself. What's done is done and I'm, _we're_, going to have a baby."

She spoke as if they were a happy couple.

"Wait, you're only, what, six weeks along?"

"Medically, eight," she corrected him. "Doctors count from the start of the mother's last period."

"Okay, eight. Then I don't see a problem here," he said, his voice picking up speed. The life in him was returning. "You can still get an abortion." He realized after he said it how harsh it sounded, and he felt regret for speaking the words when he saw how sad and disappointed she was, saw the, maybe not even conscious, maternal move to place her hand over her stomach in protection.

"No," she stated firmly, almost on the verge of tears, and then, pulling herself together, she added with a hint of anger, "I'm thirty-nine and have no children. I'm keeping it whether you're a part of its life or not."

He thought of his next response, but it was maybe even harsher than his last, and he couldn't say it aloud. He just thought it.

_I don't want to be a father._

"Okay," he said, moving the conversation forward. "How do you even know it's mine?"

Her response was blunt. "Because I haven't had sex with anyone else in the past eight weeks."

"We were drunk." His retort was gentle. He was trying to lead her to another possibility. "Maybe we both went to other parties over the span of that week and just forgot. It was just before Christmas, after all. Maybe you just don't…"

"I can't believe you're suggesting that I sleep around!" Her voice was loud now, and he grimaced at the thought of people nearby hearing her. "Ask my brother! Our mom is sick and that night with you was the only night I went out in months!" She started to cry, wiped the tears with her sleeve, and said quietly, convincingly, "I _know _it's yours. And I know this is happening. I took three tests, had blood work done, it was all positive. This _is _happening."

She waited for his full response, but he only mumbled half a sentence. "But, I don't-"

"Yeah, I know you don't." She sounded exhausted. She sounded disappointed. "Look," she said, taking out a notebook and pen from her purse. She jotted something down on the paper and ripped out the page, and held it out to him. "This is my number. I don't think you have it. I know you're telling me you don't want a baby, but I won't shut you out if you change your mind. If you want to come to my doctor appointments, sonograms, help me decorate the room, see the baby," here she joked up a bit, "I won't deny you your right. Just call me."

His sympathy for her was enough for him to take the paper into his hand and stuff it into his pocket. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," she answered, disappointed that he wasn't suddenly overtaken by paternal instinct. "That's it." They both stood up, and he turned to leave, but she called him back.

"Wait," she called. "I'm sorry to have to ask you this but, do you have change on you? I didn't bring money and I'm not really feeling well and I could walk but I want to take the bus home. I'll pay you back."

He hesitated for a moment, mumbled his reply, and placed twelve quarters into her outstretched hand. He may not have been happy with the situation, but given the fact that she was pregnant whether he liked it or not, he wasn't going to force her to walk home if she didn't want to.

"Thanks." She smiled, seeing his humanity. "Hey, I have an idea. Since I now owe you money, and I think it would be good if you're involved, why don't you come with me to my appointment tomorrow? We can meet here at about eleven-thirty, the office is just two blocks away, you can sit in on the appointment, we'll find out how everything is going, I can pay you back, and we'll go for lunch afterward and talk everything over." By this point she was beaming, so hopeful he'd take her up on the offer, but he shook his head no.

"No, it's fine. Just keep it." A small smile spread on his face for just a moment as he tried to reassure her, tried to not seem like a monster, and when he met her eyes she tried to return it, but by this point she'd been broken. "Okay then, if you change your mind you know how to reach me." He nodded, and turned around before he would have to see her eyes well up with tears.

**A/N: I PROMISE IT ALL WORKS OUT.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next action Wilbur had to take was clear to him: Lewis had to know. As much as it pained him to think about it, and as much as he was scared of what would happen, he had to come clean. Wilbur could lie to Lewis about a one night stand, something that had no effect on their relationship going forward and was therefore irrelevant, but he couldn't keep it a secret from him that he was going to be a father. Even though he had no intentions to play the role of doting father, this was too big, too big of a moment in his life to keep it a secret from Lewis, from the person he _said _he loved, and meant it.

No doubt the press would find out. Maybe _Courtney_ wouldn't tell them, but her brother definitely would if he felt his sister was being wronged, and if she kept requesting to meet with him, especially when she started to show, someone would put two and two together, and that wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair if the dreaded press knew about it, and his precious Lewis was lied to. Those scumbags didn't deserve to know more than Lewis. They had never cared about him as a person and they would relish in finding out his own son had made such a big mistake. Wilbur could already see the way they would attack Lewis's memory. It wasn't just the press. _Everyone _would be commenting on what an "irresponsible" son Lewis had raised. What grown man gets drunk and loses so much control that he sleeps with a woman he barely knows, and then ignores her subsequent pregnancy? He could, of course, just help her raise the baby, and therefore they would have nothing negative to write about. But that wasn't what he wanted for the next eighteen years, to be tied down by a kid, and he wouldn't let the press control how he lived his life.

They'd also pick up on their age difference. She was a full eight years younger than he was. While he would turn forty-eight in two weeks, she was still in her late thirties until May. This wouldn't normally be a big deal, but people would start to feel uncomfortable if they found out that the last time he'd seen her before the conception of their child she was just ten years old, and he had been a legal adult. It was a sick image with no basis, but they would undoubtedly go there. The press loved controversy.

_Huh. If only they knew what really went on between me and Lewis when no one was looking._

Wilbur walked back home and felt the cold February air hit his face. It stung and he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't feel the tears running down his face. He felt so ashamed for all of this. He would have to swallow his pride and beg for forgiveness, for sure this time. Lewis would not be understanding like the first time he had a confession to make, the time he had said he was sick, the time he had given his excuse. He would not offer the spare room to him and offer him intimacy. No, instead he would curse him out. He would yell so the rest of the family heard and found out about them. Well, it didn't matter now. They were done. It was over. Their relationship had been unstable for the past six weeks because of this secret. He'd lived in fear of it all crumbling. This was the great climax. This was the result of everything. This was the grand finale.

It was just after four when Wilbur entered the gates of the Robinson Estate, an estate that was now legally his. Franny did not question Cornelius leaving the house to him. She was his wife, but they hadn't been close in years, and deep within her, she _knew._ She knew she was second to her son in the eyes of her husband. Wilbur doubted that she cared whether this placing of himself above her had sexual roots or not. Really, it didn't matter who owned the house at this point. It was his in title, but he couldn't, and wouldn't, kick his family out, so ownership was just a ceremonial thing. Perhaps Franny hoped that one day in the near future Wilbur would marry and fill the house with the joys children bring, but Wilbur shrugged away the thought as something that would only happen in her wildest dreams.

He did not announce his return to his family. He had reached the point where he could not socialize. He couldn't function until this was off his chest. Instead, he entered the code and opened the garage door. He would have to land in the past at exactly five, so he could catch Lewis as he was getting home. If he didn't catch him then, it would be risky to go searching around the house. In anticipation for the moment this would all end, he climbed in the time machine and set a reminder alarm on his phone. All he had to do was wait for the right moment.

He didn't remember dozing off, but he jumped up in the time machine seat when the beeping of his phone woke him from his sleep. He had slept until eleven this morning, but the pregnancy announcement must've caused his body to become so drained of energy that when he sat down in the time machine seat the dream world mixed with that of the waking world, and his body was so powerless to stop it he just gave in without knowing. For a few moments, he sat in the time machine wondering why he was there and what he had been doing. His brain wasn't completely awake, and it took him a while to consciously locate his phone and unlock it to silence the ringing. With a single swipe, the reminder appeared on the newly brightened screen, and it all came flooding back, and he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and started the time machine. It was already 5:01, and he prayed it wasn't already too late to catch Lewis on his way in.

He parked the time machine in back of the house, where there were the least windows. He'd put the invisibility cloak over it in a matter of seconds anyway, but you never know what people with keen eyes can catch in that time, and when his secret and his family became so uncomfortably close, it was important to be as cautious as possible. Hopping out of the machine, he only hoped that in the fifteen seconds it would take to run around to the front, to the gates Lewis would have to come through to get home, he wouldn't miss his chance.

He didn't know where to stay and wait, or how long he should stay before coming to the conclusion that Lewis had probably come home already and he needed to proceed to Plan B. If he stayed in front of the house, he risked running into anyone who came out of the front door, and there was also Spike and Dimitri, who were in the flowerpots and could come out at any moment and discover him. He felt so vulnerable staying out here, potentially for no reason, but he couldn't just assume Lewis was already home. He had to wait out here and see what would happen, because it was riskier to go searching for him through the house, and with no proof he was in there…

Wilbur stood by the side of the house for four solid minutes before he saw Lewis come walking through the open gates. He was looking out, peering beyond the cover of the wall for the fiftieth straight time, and although this wasn't a happy visit, he couldn't help but smile when he finally saw the person he had been so determined to see coming up to the front door.

"Lewis," he whispered. It was a frantic call. He had to manage to get Lewis's attention before he went inside, yet Wilbur couldn't just walk up to him. He wasn't in the right time period. Lewis didn't hear the call, or if he did he wrote it off as himself just hearing things, imagining he'd heard Wilbur's voice in what was actually silence. "Lewis!" The second call was a bit louder, and escaped Wilbur's lips when Lewis was just steps away from the door. This time he turned, and Wilbur partially came into view.

"Geez, I thought I heard you but I was kind of hoping I was just hearing things," Lewis said, moving toward the spot where Wilbur stood. "What are you doing here? You know it's dangerous to come here without my-" He stopped. He was scared that if he said the word "permission" it would sound controlling, and a bit too paternal.

"I know," Wilbur answered. He sounded like a kid trying to convince his parent he would not misbehave. "But I had to see you, Lewis. It couldn't wait."

With this, Lewis frowned. He became greatly concerned, and Wilbur knew he had every right to be. This was now the fourth time in recent memory that Wilbur had come over without warning. In a way, he had gotten used to it, but these unplanned visits still made him anxious.

"Then we should go inside," Lewis suggested. "It's not good to stay out here, where people can see." There was reluctant acceptance in his voice. He was sick of keeping what they did, what they felt, a secret, but he knew he had no choice. He watched as Wilbur turned around to face the garage, and Lewis also moved forward so he stood on Wilbur's right side. He offered the greatest touch he could at the moment, and placed his left hand on Wilbur's back as they moved forward, but made sure his arm did not completely curve so it was wrapped around him. That would be too hard to explain if they were caught. There was a tension between them that made it hard to speak on the way there, but Wilbur didn't feel guilty for not speaking. In a matter of minutes there would be enough of that. They would fill the air with shouts and make up for those thirty years between his sixteenth and forty-sixth birthdays that they hadn't spoken. It would make up for three decades of silence.

"Do you have the remote control?"

"I don't need it," Lewis answered. "I finally got that button installed to open it from the outside. I'm sure you know all about it."

Wilbur nodded, and assumed that since he was the one closer to the new installation, he would be entering the password.

"Do you remember it?"

_God, does he have to be so gentle with me, right now?_

Cornelius changed the password about once every three months, but he did remember the first one, just because it was the first. He entered it, his fingers nearly missing the buttons because of his nerves, and watched the door open as he pressed the button. It would be their last moment of normalcy. It would be the last bit of tranquility.

"So, what is it you have to tell me now?" Wilbur was glad Lewis was starting the conversation. He didn't know how he would've done it.

"It's really bad, Lewis." He said the words in a rushed pace. He was going to drop hints to Lewis right away that this wasn't good.

"Really?" It came out of his mouth in the tone of a policeman who had just been told by a prime suspect of a crime that he wasn't guilty, when in fact they had video putting him at the scene of the crime. It was interrogative. He'd gotten stiff, and crossed his arms as if to verify authority.

"Yeah, really." There was a pause as Wilbur thought of how to move forward with his confession. "Lewis, do you remember that time in December, right before Christmas, when I didn't show up, and we'd planned to spend the night together?"

With the way this was going, Lewis had started to get the idea, and his shoulders slumped. His body started to sag in preparation of being broken. "Yeah, yeah, I do." His voice didn't quiver yet.

"Okay, I wasn't sick. I…I was depressed. I went to a party. Lewis, I swear to God, I was just going to stay an hour and then come to you. But I had too much to drink and I-"

"Is that why you didn't show up? You didn't want to drive the time machine drunk?" Wilbur could tell from the way Lewis said this that even _he _didn't believe this was the case, but he wished he did.

"No." Here his voice cracked. He felt his eyes well up with tears, although he knew he had no right to cry. It was his fault. The way his "no" came out, it was easy to tell that underneath that, in his mind, he was apologizing furiously.

_I'm so sorry, Lewis. I'm so sorry, for both of us._

"No, it's not. I had too much to drink, and," he wished Lewis would get the hint, and he didn't have to finish. Then he thought to himself, _Maybe he does know. Maybe he has figured it out. He just wants me to own up to it and say it aloud._ "And there was this girl there. A friend from high school's sister, and I was so upset and so drunk I lost it for a night, but Lewis I-" He came closer to Lewis and placed one hand on either arm, and was half surprised when Lewis didn't pull away at his touch. He was stiff and uncomfortable, staring into space, but he accepted it.

"You cheated." It was a forlorn remark. It didn't come out like an accusation, but a summary of what he'd just heard, an acceptance of the truth.

"It wasn't like that. I _love _you, I do. I didn't even remember the next morning. It meant nothing, and I hadn't heard from her again until today."

"Today?" For the first time that day, their eyes locked, and in his eyes Wilbur saw fear, shock, and surprise all in one.

"She's, she's," Wilbur couldn't finish the sentence.

"With your baby." Lewis's voice was low and it was obvious he felt that if he put too much effort into speaking he'd cry.

"Yes. It's mine." He removed his hands from Lewis's body, acknowledging his freedom to do what he wants with this new information.

Lewis sighed, emotionally exhausted, and remained extremely serious, but did not go on an angry rant.

"You said you were depressed and drunk?"

Wilbur nodded.

"This was right after I died, right?"

Another nod.

"And you haven't seen her since? Before today, that is?"

"That's right."

"Okay." He sounded like he was giving in to a force he couldn't control. Something he couldn't shake off was taking hold of him. "Then I believe you."

"You-you're-?" Wilbur allowed joy to creep into his voice, then became more subdued. He didn't want to get too excited too fast. "You're not mad?"

"Oh, I'm a little mad. And I'm disappointed. And I have to be honest, really hurt. But…I realized I told you I love you, and I do, and who am I if I go back on that? If I don't take your word?"

Filled with joy he couldn't hold back, Wilbur closed the gap between them and embraced Lewis in a tight hug, and he felt satisfied knowing he was hugged back, even if he could feel that Lewis was being a bit reserved with his gestures.

"You know, I can help you through this, Wilbur. I was there through a whole pregnancy myself, after all."

Wilbur pulled away and shook his head. "No, you don't have to. I told her I'm not ready for a baby. I don't plan on being there much."

Lewis's eyes filled up with sympathy, but not for them this time. He was sorry for Courtney, and for her child.  
"What do you mean? You can't just…Okay, whatever." With a wave of his hand, he was over it. "This is all still pretty new to you. You'll come around and then we'll discuss responsibility as a parent. There's just, there's one thing I'm a bit confused, and concerned, about."

"Which is…?"

"Did I say anything about this before I died? You said I wanted to see you right before then."

"No, you didn't. Why?"

"Okay, I just realized something then, and it's worse than what you said. I'm convinced that if you had a baby, I would've warned you in some way before I died. Even if you're messing up the time stream by telling me, and your older self never told my older self, after thirty years I would've found out, and I would've said something. Unless, unless there's nothing for me to warn you about."

"What do you mean?"

"Wilbur, I think she might, I think she might have a miscarriage."

For a moment, time seemed to stop and it became harder to breathe. The room was hot and Wilbur suddenly hated the fact that the garage had no windows. _That's terrible. _He might not have wanted a kid, but she clearly did.

"You think it's likely?"

"I, yeah, yeah, I do. How old is she?"

"She'll be forty in the spring."

"Yeah, that's kind of high risk. Wilbur, I hope I'm wrong. I hope I'm overlooking something here but it just doesn't look good." He paused, thought for a moment, and continued. "Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?"

"So what do I do, Lewis?" He didn't bother answering the question. "Do I just wait for a phone call? Because you know damn well if something happens I'm first on the list to know."

"Yeah, basically that's what you do." He saw Wilbur's look of annoyance, and then tried to smooth over his response. "I'm sorry, I wish I had a better solution. We can't tell her about this because of the time stream, but how far along is she? Eight, nine weeks?"

"Eight."

"Okay. If you get through the next four weeks and don't hear anything my theory is probably wrong."

_Your theories are never wrong._

Wilbur stayed there for a few more minutes, composed himself, and walked back out to his time machine alone. All he wanted to _be _was alone, and yet, someone else was in the courtyard when he got back into his own time.

_Rachael._

"What are you doing here?" He made it very clear to her he wasn't in the mood. "Don't you have any consideration for privacy? Personal space?"

"Apparently I don't." The response was so tongue-in-cheek she started to remind him of himself.

"Okay, well learn to have some."

"Listen, this isn't about me, it's about you. I hadn't checked on you in a while and I was wondering if you were upset. I mean, you _look _upset right now, and it seems that it's not just from me being here. Maybe I can help."

"Yeah, and maybe you can't. You wouldn't be able to understand how complicated my life is right now, so don't try."

She looked down, with big, upset eyes that resembled those of a freshly scolded puppy, and then looked up again.  
"Why won't you just let me help you? You're so bitter."

"Maybe because I'm sick of you bothering me!" It came out as a shout, but he didn't care if anyone heard.

"Right, of course you are." She was quite audibly angry. It was as if she'd heard this before.

She left him there in the bitter February air with a thousand thoughts swirling around in his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It seemed to Wilbur that this year the spring came quicker than usual. Nature was doing either one of two things: Rushing him through the pregnancy and getting him to the time when Courtney would finally learn to give up, or rushing him to the time she would ask for his involvement even _more_, after her baby was born in early September. He had been hoping she'd get the hint and stop calling, but while she didn't call every day, she sent a text message at least once a week. If there was no news to tell him that was relevant to the situation that had brought them together against their will, she would just tell him how she felt about everything.

"Hey. Just checking up on you. My brother is coming with me to look for carriages. Want to come?"

He couldn't bring himself to reply. He didn't _blame _her for the situation. He knew he was equally responsible for what had happened, but at the same time, she was a reminder that he was too weak. She was a reminder that he had screwed up.

It wasn't like he didn't talk to Lewis anymore, and visibly, their relationship was still vibrant. Wilbur still took trips there regularly, and as always they tried to act like they were just a normal couple, but although Lewis would never admit it, Wilbur knew the idea of him having a baby by a stranger hurt, and it didn't matter how detached he remained from her, detached for the very sake of staying with Lewis. In a way, Wilbur felt that he himself got what he deserved. He'd hurt Lewis, and now Lewis's unspoken sadness was an unintentional way to get back at him. They said they'd always be honest with each other, yet Lewis couldn't voice his pain. Despite being torn, Lewis couldn't leave. He had become a slave to that thing known as unconditional love, and he would stay until told to leave. They'd celebrated Wilbur's birthday, and subsequently their anniversary at the end of March (They'd decided to count from that first day, the day Lewis had been brought into the future, and not from their reunion just two years prior), but there just wasn't as much joy, and when it came down to it, Wilbur concluded that there was jealousy in Lewis. He was jealous that Courtney could give him what he never could: a family. Yeah, technically he'd done just that. Hell, he'd given him _life_. But because of what they were, he'd never be able to give him the type of family she could. He would never have the option of moving in with him, marrying him, adopting, and that was so close to her. Lewis would never hold him back from being there for her and his kid if that's what he felt he needed to do, but the idea made Lewis's skin crawl. He was relieved when there turned out to be no devastating phone call to announce a lost pregnancy, and his theory turned out to be wrong, but as the months went by, he felt increasingly threatened. By a _baby._ He wrestled with it for some time, but his nature, his core, told him that he would be the voice of reason, and the first thing to do with that was not take it out on this child for being born. Really, he didn't take it out on Wilbur either, or Courtney. Yeah, he technically was hurt that on an external level he'd been cheated on, but scientifically they were drunk and had lost control. It was just one careless night. In actuality, he blamed himself a bit. He was the one who had to die, who had made Wilbur depressed and ultimately forced him to run to someone else for physical comfort, and sometimes he felt he could no longer offer this to Wilbur, as he was growing more and more anxious each day.

Wilbur knew his own nerves had prevented them from being close recently, and he'd almost come to dread their time together, not because he grew tired of what they were, but because he felt like he was just a disappointment. It was for this reason that he'd come to find himself staying up late and waking up at noon. He was restless. It was April, and he didn't know how he'd get through another five months of all of this.

He woke up and rolled over on his back. The house was quiet, but that was just the way things were now. His mom, cousins, and uncles were probably awake and downstairs, but they were ignoring him, because his behavior had become normal. They tried to convince him to seek help, but he was still so stubborn, and now Franny was the only one who still occasionally brought it up.

Of course, the first thing he thought of now that he was officially awake was Lewis. He was supposed to go visit him tonight. The family was going to another concert and Lewis had used work as an excuse not to go. There was no use wallowing in how life had mistreated him. He did that enough, and he wanted to _try _and act normal tonight, for Lewis's sake as well as his own, so he got up and, for a moment, forgot about the circumstance he was in, until he saw his phone. He wondered if he should even bother turning it on because he knew what would be waiting for him and he wasn't eager to acknowledge it. But then he remembered he was an adult, and his phone had to be on should anything come up. Naturally, the only thing that presented itself was a voice mail notice, and he listened just so it would disappear from his sight.

"Hey, I know you don't answer my calls, but I thought you'd like to know that I found out the baby's sex today: I'm having a girl."

That was all.

A girl. He was going to have a daughter.

Something about this newly revealed fact struck a chord within him. The situation became different just for a moment. If he had a son, that was one thing, but a _daughter_. He couldn't quite explain it to himself, but the associations were different. Things became gentler with little girls. They had to be protected. He suddenly felt sorry he wouldn't be there to provide that, that he already had a prior commitment.

_I'm sorry. You just don't understand. I let him go once. I can't do that again._

_Geez, Wilbur, pull yourself together. You're getting too tied up with this._

Yet, he couldn't shake the idea away from himself. He hardly ever brought up Courtney's messages to Lewis, but that night he couldn't help but mention it.

"You know, Courtney found out the baby's sex today."

"Oh, really?" Somehow his voice didn't show any jealousy or hatred. He sounded genuinely interested. "What is it?" Little did Wilbur know that Lewis himself was surprised at how happy his words were coming out.

"A girl. In about five months she'll have a daughter."

"She's due in early September, right?"

"Yeah, around that time."

"Have you visited her at all?"

"Well, no, there's no reason for me to. I don't want to give the impression that I'm going to be around." Wilbur found himself getting annoyed with where this conversation was going.

"Okay," Lewis said with an exasperated sigh. "We really need to talk." He took the remote and turned the television off. "Can we move to the dining room so I don't have to keep turning my head to see you?"

Wilbur seemed completely uninterested in having a serious conversation, especially about his pending parenthood, but since it was Lewis who initiated it, he walked over to the kitchen table and gave in. It suddenly felt like he was at a business meeting, at least, how he imagined those meetings went, with Lewis at one far end of the table and him at the other.

"Okay," Lewis started, clearing his throat. "Remember I said we had to have a conversation about responsibility? This is it. We _really _need to talk."

"Why are you talking to me like I'm a child?"

"You're acting like one." His response was so cold and pointed Wilbur couldn't believe he had heard it right. "You can't just _not _be a part of your daughter's life."

"What do you mean I can't? This wasn't planned at all."

"Well, not everything is as well planned out as you were." Lewis said this with a smirk and his expression just _begged _for Wilbur to ask him to go on. When no such request came, he continued anyway. "I wanted to make sure that you were you. I didn't trust myself to just magically get the timing right. So you may remember that when we were together one time I asked if your mother ever told you what her due date had been, and I counted _back _from thereso I knew **exactly **when we'd have to have sex just so _you _existed. And because I knew exactly when you'd be born, I coaxed Franny into setting up the nursery _months _before you were even conceived, telling her, "I know as soon as we start to try we'll have a baby right away, we'll get lucky, so we should be prepared." But I didn't want to do anything more than I had to with her, so I said we had to get the room just right and finish it before we could start trying, and I also used our growing careers as an excuse, and then, when the few days that I had narrowed down, singled out as days of your possible conception came, then I did what I had to, and there you are. And I'm not stupid. I know that's not the case here. But I do know one thing, Wilbur: This baby is either going to grow up with or without a father: What do you want it to be?"

"Do you know how hard it would be to see you if I became involved in this?"

"Bastard."

"_What?"_

"You heard me." They'd had fights before, but Lewis had never allowed himself to get this angry. "How could you put _me _before your daughter? You're so selfish."

"I'm selfish? This coming from the person who used Franny for sex, for _me_. If you can do something selfish for me, why can't I do it for you? This is our relationship I'm talking about, Lewis."

"Yeah, and speaking of Franny, does she even know?" Lewis had cleverly dodged Wilbur's dig at his own character by throwing an insult in the opposite direction. "You're not saying anything. She doesn't know, does she? How could you not tell her that Courtney's carrying her grandchild? Don't you think she'll find out?"

"No, quite honestly, I don't."

"Fine. Since I'm clearly the issue here, and I'm preventing you from seeing the true consequences of your actions, maybe you shouldn't see me for a while." Lewis didn't even realize the full implications of his words until they came out.

"What are you saying? We need a break?"

"No, I'm not calling it a break. We're still together, we're just not _seeing _each other."

"Yeah Lewis, that's a break."

When he responded, Lewis's tone was softer, almost apologetic. "I _know _you're capable of stepping up, Wilbur. I just want you to think clearly about this. You've been so cold about it, this whole time, you're just, this isn't, this coldness, it's not a characteristic of the person I fell in love with."  
"I'm not living up to your expectations? Do you have any idea what expectations were put on _me _growing up and Hell, even carry over into my adult life? People expect me to be perfect. Like _you_. And I will admit, yes, you're perfect, every little thing you do is perfect. But when you stop looking at it from the angle of what I'm attracted to, and start looking at it as what I have to live up to, that's impossible. Please don't be just like them and tell me what you expect and don't expect from me."

"I'm not asking you to invent some life changing thing! I'm asking you to be a good person. I'm asking you to be a good _father_. Think about it." He paused, and then added, "Don't come see me again until the baby's born, until _after _you've seen her and _held _her. If you still feel the same way, I'll let it be and we can just return to the way things were, but you have to give her a chance."

"So that's it? You're just going to throw me out like that? Like _we're _nothing? This is pretty ironic: In your mind I'm ranked higher than my mother, but lower than a baby."

"This isn't about where anyone is ranked. I'm trying to stop you from having a major regret. I'm trying to save my _granddaughter _from growing up without a father."

Wilbur wanted to say more. He wanted to argue until dawn the next day and defend his case but he suddenly felt drained, and simply nodded and walked out the door. He didn't remember the last time he left Lewis's time without saying "I love you" at least once.

He didn't land the time machine in the garage. He parked it away from the house, east of the gates. He needed the fresh air to clear his head to help him make sense of what had just happened.

Had they broken up? Lewis made a point of not using that phrase, "breaking up," but at the moment things didn't look promising. Five months was a long time to go without seeing him. In retrospect, he'd done thirty years at one point, a time in his life that was not that long ago, but at that time he thought he hated Lewis, so the sacrifice wasn't that great. Now at a time when all he felt was regret over the betrayal he committed, he wondered how he'd get through it, and he cursed the situation he was in. How dare she come between them.

He heard footsteps, and whoever it was was coming closer. He didn't even have to look up to know who was paying him a visit. She just managed to show up at the worst time.

"And what's your reason for coming today?" It was a question addressed to her, but he kept his gaze directed straight ahead. "You've already used the 'checking up on you' line, so come up with something new."

"Well, I don't _have _to come up with anything new. I was actually wondering if I could ask you for a favor." She had now come right up to the side of the time machine, and Wilbur realized that since he couldn't ignore her, he should get out and acknowledge her presence.

"A favor? You've got to be kidding me. You've repeatedly walked onto my property without permission and you're asking me for a favor? Do _me_ one and leave." He was out of the machine now and facing her, this mysterious girl who he still struggled to place.

"I was wondering if I could look at some of your father's old blueprints." It came out shameless. It was a bold request, but she asked for them as if she were asking a classmate for a pen.

"_What_? Who are _you _to be looking through my father's stuff?"

"I'm starting my own career in science and I-"

"He didn't ask for his stuff to be lent out to the general public and I'm not doing it. Don't you have a family, Rachael? Somewhere to be instead of here?"

"I do, actually." Her response was acidic. She wasn't putting up with his sarcasm, and it wasn't the response Wilbur had been expecting. He'd expected her to say no, to find out that she came wandering here so often because she had nowhere to be, and he'd therefore have in her a kindred spirit. They would both have nothing.

"You're married?" He didn't know what drove him to ask this, but once he said it he wished he could take it back.

"Yes, yes I am." She started beaming, and he gathered that the one word missing from her response was "happily."

"Kids?" This time the question was intentional. He wanted to see just how much they shared, but when he saw her face fall he felt guilty for asking.

"No, no, not yet. I've been trying a while now, Hell, a year. Nothing."

The irony of the situation killed him. Here he was, five months short of being a father to a baby he didn't want, and she had been trying for a year with no success.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He knew it sounded so cliché, and it was such a standard response, but he meant it. He really did feel sorry for her. "Do you want me to walk you home, Rachael?" He didn't know why he had even offered, but once he heard himself, once he comprehended the weight of his words, he decided he'd stick with it.

"Oh, no," she said. "You look like you've had a rough day. Just go home."

"Okay, if you say so…I can get those blueprints for you if you really want them. I'd have to go looking. You can pick them up in a couple of days."

She didn't make eye contact with him, but shook her head no. "It's no big deal, really Wilbur. You're right. It's none of my business. I should get going. I'll see you around."

He watched her leave and walked into the house and up the steps to his room. On a whim, he picked up his cell phone and started to compose a text message.

"Hey. It's me. I'm sorry I've been such a jerk. I'll take you shopping for baby clothes tomorrow, my treat. We'll go to dinner afterward. It'll be fun…" His finger hovered over the send button, and then he erased everything and locked the screen. He dropped it onto his mattress and closed his eyes.

_No. I can't let anything take the place of Lewis in my life._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I know this is very late, but I wanted to only update when I was happy with my work. I only want you guys to read my best stuff. I don't want to update just because I feel I should. Every sentence in this was written when I felt like writing, not because I felt I should. I never pushed myself. So here it is!**

Chapter 11

Wilbur liked to believe that Franny would never find out about the situation he had found himself in. The more he thought about it, the more he concluded that there really was no reason for her to know. If he was going to act like it had never happened, and if he was going to just live his life, then so should everyone else. It wasn't like he was sneaking back and forth from Courtney's house, painting the nursery and discussing baby names. It wasn't like he was experiencing this great feeling of paternity while simultaneously not letting his mother share the love for the baby, robbing her of such a great opportunity. Because there was no attachment coming from _his_ side, he did not feel bad that he didn't give her the opportunity to feel it. And since Franny was now the matriarch, the female head of the family, her not knowing, not telling anyone, meant _nobody_ knew. The ignorance from his side, the ignorance his family had, was one of the things that allowed him to move forward. It kept him numb and in denial. It meant he didn't have to face the facts, and the facts terrified him.

The facts, he knew them oh so well because he had been going over them so much, went as follows: Because he had been grieving so much at the time of Cornelius's death, he let himself go, and now, ironically, the very actions he did while grieving, drink, made it look like he hadn't grieved at all. That one mistake made it look like he didn't care. On top of that, when he tried to live his life as normal, and show Lewis that it really was only him that mattered, and he didn't really love this woman, he was rejected, and now it had been about two months since they'd seen each other. It was June. He had expected Lewis to crack way before this. Wilbur had considered being the one to visit, but he didn't want to risk being the one to break the separation and have Lewis be mad. Therefore, he just sat and waited, and when Lewis didn't come to him within a week, he was surprised, but the fact that it had been two months and he'd still heard nothing was beyond crushing. He knew Lewis would want to do what he thought was right, but his willpower was astonishing. Wilbur, on the other hand, was slowly losing the sanity he was clinging to so desperately and only the fact that he thought his secret was still well kept was keeping him together. His greatest fear was that one day, at one family dinner, an announcement about his mistake would be made to everyone, by some audacious family member. He just didn't know how close that really was to happening, and when the day came, it began like any other, and even the family dinner, where the madness started, began as normal.

"And so," Art finished, "That was how I delivered ten pizzas in the middle of an alien invasion." He finished his speech that was accompanying their dinner and sat down.

Wilbur saw all the nods of approval and heard all the sounds of interest that came from everyone's mouth but his own, but Art had repeated this story so many times in his older years that Wilbur couldn't bring himself to seem interested in it again, and wondered how everyone else managed. It was safe to say he was bored to tears. Yet, he didn't entirely blame Art's repetition for his own lack of interest in the family dinner. It didn't matter what was said. Wilbur just hated sitting with his family in general. He sat next to Tallulah just to keep his sanity because she was the only one he could stand out of the family members who remained. When he disconnected himself from everyone at eighteen, it was Tallulah who paid his college tuition. He wanted nothing to do with his parents. He'd already stated he wouldn't take any of his mother's, let alone his father's, money, but it was Tallulah who convinced Franny to let her do this by stating that it would help Wilbur feel more independent and less coddled if his parents were not as responsible for him as he entered university, and although Franny agreed, Tallulah's own relationship with Wilbur's parents was later strained, because at his request she kept his contact information secret for thirty years. She became the mother figure he could never again see his real mother as, and she was the only one he felt connected to now that his dad was gone. The others, well, there weren't many left. Bud had passed away about two years after Wilbur left for college. He still remembered how Tallulah called him up and asked him if he would mind flying over for the funeral. Wilbur had of course refused in order to avoid seeing his father, who he still resented at the time. He still remembered how angry that had made Tallulah.

_How could you?_

_Sorry. I have nothing against him. I just, I can't see…the other one._

Lucille had passed away a few years later, and the interaction between Wilbur and Tallulah had been similar. Regarding his uncles, Joe's weight had always caused some health issues, and he had succumbed to a heart attack when Wilbur was about twenty-five. Fritz was probably still alive, but he lost Petunia around the house one day and went searching for a puppet just like her. This was about a year ago, and he hadn't come back. The fact that he hadn't come to Cornelius's funeral, although he most likely had heard about it, was a sign he was probably done with the family, so struck with grief he couldn't come back, and although Wilbur felt he'd _always_ had something in common with Tallulah, her new resentment toward her father solidified this. He had had one once, too. Spike and Demitri had just left to another pair of flowerpots one day, quite unceremoniously, and as for Lefty, it had been a family decision that a butler was no longer needed years ago. Most times they just left the door open, anyway. This left his older cousins, namely Tallulah and Lazlo, his mother, Gaston, Art, and if robots were counted, Carl, in the house as Wilbur's company.

"That's always a great story, Art," Tallulah stated, bringing Wilbur back to the present moment. Of course she would humor him. She was too nice not to.

"Yeah, the first time he said it." Wilbur hadn't planned to say this aloud, even if it _was _only mumbled. He guessed it came out because his body could not ignore how agitated it was. He felt the angry stares on him, but he was too numb to feel embarrassed, or even guilty.

"Do you always have to be so cruel?" He turned to face Tallulah, who was staring back at him and defending Art, although there was no true blood relation between them. "Someone wants to make us actually feel happy with a story after all we've been through and you have the audacity to-"

"It's alright, Tallulah," Franny interrupted. Her support of Wilbur's behavior caught everyone at the table off guard.

"_How_ is it alright?" Tallulah turned to Wilbur and added, "Your attitude is atrocious." Both she and Wilbur could now almost feel how thick the tension was getting.

"You don't know half of what I've been through," Wilbur blurted, and then he stopped before he could say more, because he was scared he'd already said too much.

"Everything you've been going through we've been going through, too!" Tallulah shouted. Her eyes were filling up with tears and her voice started to crack. "We lost him, too, Wilbur."

"It's not that," Franny said. "That's not what has him jumpy. Wilbur has a secret he hasn't told us. That's what's bothering him." She made eye contact with her son, and Wilbur sat up in his chair as if being pulled up swiftly by strings, and met his mother's gaze fearlessly.

"Whatever you've he-" But he was interrupted by his mother's next sentence.

"Wilbur's going to be a father."

Listening to her words, Wilbur was surprised how calmly it came out, and how affectionately it was phrased despite the undoubtedly bad circumstance under which she'd found out, and he almost forgot his shock that she'd discovered it.

"In just a few months," Franny continued. "September." Here, some anger seeped into her voice.

"How did you find this out?" His voice was sharp. Wilbur was not going to allow his family members to speak before him. This concerned him before anyone else. He knew that a thousand unanswered questions stood on the lips of everyone in the room, but they would have to wait.

"She called the house earlier. You were still asleep." There was a pause, and then Franny asked, "Why didn't you say anything?" He heard the anger in her voice give way to hurt, and he felt compelled to give a genuine answer.

"It just _happened_." He sounded almost apologetic, almost sad. "That's why. It's not relevant. It's not a part of my life." He said this calmly but sternly, trying to convince her not to push him further. He started to awkwardly move around his utensils and plate, getting uncomfortable with how exposed he now was.

"_It_?" She sounded disturbed at the use of that pronoun. "What do you mean _she's_ not relevant! She's a baby, not a stray dog!" The whole table seemed surprised at how quickly Franny had raised her voice.

"You act like she's my girlfriend!" He stood up now, and pushed the chair in with force. He felt his face get red and didn't try to censor himself. "We were drunk! We were drunk and stupid and we had sex! There is no commitment here. She just got pregnant!"

"Yes, by you! Jesus, Wilbur, I didn't raise you like this!" Franny may have been in her mid-seventies, but with the power she conveyed she sure didn't show it right now, and when she stood up she seemed to have the power of a queen.

"You know Mom, you're right. You didn't. You raised me to be perfect. And guess what? I'm not. I never was."

"So you'll just make it worse by ignoring your responsibility?" A single tear rolled down her face, but she wiped it away ad didn't allow any more to fall so she would not be seen as weak.

"She's not m-"

"God dammit, she is! It doesn't matter that Courtney isn't your girlfriend. You haven't seen her once during the past six months. Not to a doctor's appointment, not to go shopping for the room, you haven't even asked how she's doing. You were the one who started this and you don't think her baby is your responsibility? How does your daughter not fall under the category of 'your responsibility'?"

He wasn't about to answer that, and turned around to leave when she hit him with the lowest blow both of them could think of.

"What would your father think of this?" From the way it came out, it was clear that Franny knew this was a very hurtful question.

He turned back to face her, struck that she would dare to bring that up.

"Wouldn't he have liked to know?" She was going to push him until he cracked.

"No," he answered. "He wouldn't."

"How do you know that?"

"I was closer to him than anyone in this house! He would've wished it had never happened!" He paused, diverted his gaze to the floor for a moment, and looked back into her eyes. "You know what? I do, too. Because this, all of it, happens to be the biggest mistake I've ever made!" He stood there for a few minutes and soaked in the stunned silence of all the others, their mouths now open at how Wilbur had just lashed out at his elderly mother. Then, having seen enough, he turned around and took the nearest travel tube to his room.

When he was gone, the conversation ensued.

"Aunt Franny, you really should sit down," Lazlo said. He walked over to her and tried to gently get her to sit back down, but she refused. She was too mad and disappointed to give the illusion of calmness that sitting down would bring.

"What's the full story?" Art asked, knowing she wanted closure on the topic. "How'd it happen, and what's his absence mean for us come September?"

"Well, Wilbur's story is right. She admitted they were drunk. It was a Christmas party. She found out she was pregnant about six weeks later and contacted him, but he wants nothing to do with it, as you've just discovered." She averted her gaze to the ceiling and continued, "She honestly believed he would've told us, but given his behavior, she decided she might as well call and see, because she couldn't see why no one in the family would be interested in what's going on, why not one of us had tried to contact her. You can imagine my shock when I found out. To be honest, she's still hoping he'll come around. She's prepared to share custody with him if he does, but even if he doesn't, she'll let us see the baby."

"And she's healthy? Everything's good?" This was Tallulah chiming in.

"Yeah, it's all fine. She's expecting a healthy little girl come the end of the summer, and I asked if her brother would be kind enough to call us when she goes into labor."

"_He _should be the one asking to be called!" Gaston shouted, cocking his head in the direction of the travel tube. "How could he-"

"I know he should. But really, I think he'll show up at the hospital. I think he's shocked. I think he's in denial, and this is coming at such a tough time for all of us." Franny nodded in agreement with her own statement, and a smile spread across her face. "He's not a terrible person, that I know. Whether he wants to or not, I'll get him to the hospital with us somehow, convince him in some way, if everyone will help, and I just _know_, I _know _when he holds that baby he'll change his mind."

The mood in the room became lighter, and excitement for what was to come started to become something they were all experiencing. With or without Wilbur's involvement, Franny was determined to let his daughter know that she was a Robinson.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I wanted it to be perfect.**

Chapter 12

That summer proved to be a hard one for Wilbur to get through, and the emotional pain that came with not seeing Lewis was just one layer of it. He knew that the majority of the pain came from the knowledge that his family, led by his mother, was living a completely different life than he was. They had become completely separate entities from him, so much that he struggled to connect them to himself as "family." It was as if even the genetic ties had dissolved with the emotional ones. After Franny discovered Courtney's pregnancy, she had been making regular visits to her house, along with his cousins and his uncles, and they usually all went together. They became one moving blob, and if one was to go visit, everyone else felt obliged to go. It took five people to even attempt to fill the gap that Wilbur left, and he wondered if they succeeded in filling it. He _always _knew that his absence was a big deal, that it couldn't just be ignored, and he was starting to let it bother him, but if he gave in to raising a baby, if he succumbed to one relationship, another would suffer. He had tried so hard to convince himself that he wasn't needed because he didn't want to have to choose between his daughter and Lewis. He'd done way too much to Lewis already, and he couldn't crush him anymore by breaking it off, or even spend less time with him so he could be a true father. When he would see Lewis again, he didn't want him to have to go through any more separations. As for the baby, he didn't want to get attached, get Courtney's hopes up, and then not be able to live up to expectations. His family was so different from him, so separate, because they could fearlessly participate in what he couldn't, and he kept trying to convince himself he didn't care, he kept trying to be cold, so he didn't have to feel so torn.

But the fact that he was starting to greatly acknowledge that he did have feelings gave him another problem to deal with: He had no idea what he would do when she went into labor. His initial instinct was to stay away from it, because if he showed up Courtney would expect more. She'd think that this was just the beginning, and he would start to have more of a presence in her life once she left the hospital. And then there was the press, but really this didn't make a difference. The press would flock to the hospital in droves as soon as his family was spotted there, and his absence would cause speculation. Eventually they'd find out about the baby, and they'd find a way to arrive at the conclusion that it was his, and write horrible stories, and he didn't like that. He didn't want them to sneak around and find elements of his personal life that even he was ignoring, so it really was in his benefit to go, but somehow the force pulling him to go was more than just that. A part of him _did _want to be there, so he would go. Maybe he wouldn't be in the delivery room, but for her sake and the sake of normalcy, he'd go with his family and sign the birth certificate.

The week before autumn began, at 3 AM on September sixteenth, an unusual amount of noise for that early in the morning called Wilbur out of his sleep. The family was trying to keep their voices quiet, but they were all scampering around the house and holding conversations in voices that were hushed, but excited. He didn't bother looking at the clock. What mattered was that his eyelids were heavy and his room was dark, so it was obviously very early. He didn't need to get up to ask anyone what was going on. He knew what this was, and he was determined to get out of his bed before someone came in the room to get him. He wanted to show that he _wanted _to go, and that no one had to make him do it. He didn't want someone to come in, tell him what was happening and that he should be there, and have it seem like he had been guilt tripped into coming. He was an adult and could make a responsible decision, even when he was still half asleep. He didn't even consciously realize that in his fatigue he had rolled to the edge of the bed. His body was so drained from the effort he was making to not care, to not invest emotion and just go to play his part that he couldn't bring himself to sit up and get out of bed in a normal way. He found that when he reached the edge he put his head back down, closed his eyes, and then sighed in anger at the way he was lagging and swiftly sat up.

He wasn't sure what one wore to a hospital when it came to babies. He wondered if there was a code that unattached fathers had to follow. He noticed that the discussion outside was getting louder, and as he turned the light on in his room and started looking for clothes to wear, he heard approaching footsteps outside. But it was okay. Whoever was coming would see that he had gotten up on his own before the door opened. The footsteps stopped at his door, as if the person who was outside was shocked to see that light was illuminating from the room.

"Tallulah?"

He heard his mother's voice travel up the stairs.

"We have to go."

"I know. Yeah, hold on, I'm going to check on him." Then she knocked lightly on the door three times. She wouldn't make any more of an effort than she had to.

"You can come in." He knew he sounded drowsy, but he made the effort to not sound annoyed. He settled on the clothes he needed, let the drawer close, and turned around to watch her come in the room.

"Wow, you're up," she marveled, taking a few steps inside and not bothering to even partially shut the door because they were in such a rush. If she were trying to hide her surprise, she wasn't doing a good job.

"Yeah, I heard you guys." He paused, looked her in the eyes and started, "Is…?"

"Yes," She said, very matter-of-factly. Then, much more animated, desperately trying not to jump up and down like a child and with tears in her eyes, she added, "Yes, she is." She then checked herself, remembered her age, and elaborated. "Her brother called about twenty minutes ago. Her water broke, and they're at the hospital. We're trying to get there as soon as possible so if you're coming…are you?" She couldn't help but ask. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, that he was getting dressed to join them for the birth of a baby he had previously ignored.

"I am. I figure I should be there. There are papers to sign, right?"

"Yeah, the papers." She sounded dead. She realized now that he wasn't going for the sole sake of seeing the birth of his daughter. "You can get dressed and I'll hold Franny, but be quick. We may be there for close to eighteen hours, but this is a big thing for us and we don't want to miss much of it." This last part was meant to be a dig at him for missing the entire pregnancy, and they both knew it. He nodded in agreement to her conditions and she left the room, and as he was dressing he remembered that this was where Lewis's break ended. All he had to do was hold the baby and he could be on his way back to the past he missed so badly, and he felt this jolt of energy hit him at the idea of holding her, because it meant so much.

He met his family downstairs and when they left the house it was 3:30 AM. Franny was delighted to see that he was coming, although his uncles and Lazlo were surprised and a bit annoyed that now was the time he chose to be a parent. He chose to be a father when it was exciting, but he couldn't step up to hold Courtney's hand during her pregnancy. They knew it didn't matter. Either way he was the biological father and they had no right to turn him away or say he couldn't come with them, but they resented his presence with a burning passion. They tried to convince themselves that at least she wouldn't have their baby alone, but his refusal to help her through everything else soured what should've been a joyous occasion; a joyous occasion that was taking place in what had, just nine months earlier, been the cause of great sadness, because Courtney's baby was about to be born in the same hospital Lewis had died in, and when they approached the building every member of the family remembered this and stopped in solemn remembrance. They hated hospitals.

The maternity ward was on the second floor, and all of them were surprised to find just one other family huddled together, waiting the endless wait. They had checked in with a receptionist so she would be aware that they were relatives and should be notified as things progressed, and although everyone expected him to take the opportunity, an opportunity that was his right, to go in the room and be with her during the delivery, Wilbur instead chose to sit down. He knew that he would soon fall asleep, and he hoped that when he woke up it would be over, that he wouldn't have time to become attached.

"There you are!" Nathan said, as he came down the hall. Franny approached him, and they shared a warm embrace. He went through the other family members quickly, and then turned to address the matriarch. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't-"

"Don't even think about that. How is she?"

"She's good. They're both good. It's actually moving quickly. They let me in there because the father isn't…Is he here, Franny? She's been asking for him. Like she always does. She wants him in there and it could stress her out and hurt the baby if she gets too upset over it."

"Yeah, he's here, but he," she turned around and saw that he had fallen asleep. "He's…"

"Hopeless."

"Hey, he came."

"But he's not in there," Nathan said angrily. "Why don't you do something about it?"

"That may not be a good idea," Franny said. "If I wake him up, and he's mad, he's going to go in there and be mad, and you said yourself, your sister does not need stress right now. Him too, he needs any memories tonight to be good if we're going to change this situation. He came here voluntarily tonight. I think this is where things turn around."

"For our sake I hope you're right." He sounded desolate and beaten, and Franny didn't press him for more. They just had to play the waiting game now.

Wilbur didn't know how long he had been asleep, but it had been long enough for the sun to come out. The room was light when he opened his eyes and the sun poured through the windows. He looked around, and suddenly regretted his long nap. He was ignorant on the state of the labor, and judging by the fact that his uncles and Lazlo were sleeping on adjacent chairs, he figured that nothing ecited had happened yet. Wouldn't someone had woken him if the baby had been born, and where were his mom and Tallulah?

His questions about the whereabouts of the latter were answered when he saw her walking swiftly down the hallway, wiping tears from her eyes. A feeling of dread instantly overcame him. He was frustrated that he hadn't been awake sooner.

"Tallulah?" He tried not to sound concerned, but he needed answers, and he would get them. He stood up and met her in the middle of the waiting room floor, and upon closer inspection realized that her crying had stopped him from seeing the smile on her face.

"Hi, how'd you sleep?" It was a caring question, and she went in to hug him.

"Fine," he answered, making an effort to return her affection, but being way too nervous. "What time is it?"

She laughed slightly and answered, "ten. You missed all the excitement. The baby came a little after eight, really a pretty quick delivery. She did great. We wanted you to be in the best state of mind possible when you got to meet her so that's why no one woke you up." She paused, and then added in a rushed and excited voice, "Oh, she's beautiful, Wilbur. Would you like to…?"

She let him answer with his eyes: a firm "yes." Yet, he knew that he would be going in alone, because that was what everyone thought was best.

A nurse led him down the hall after verifying who he was. She explained that they had run all the needed tests and that the baby was doing very well, and she was now with her mother, who was drowsy but had recently been awake, and who had asked about him a few times. The nurse left him by the door and he entered into the lion's den.

He walked inside, and remembered that the last time he had entered into a hospital room, he had walked out leaving his dying father alone. This was different. Earlier that morning he'd become a parent, and now he would try so hard to block out any desire to stay close to his daughter for the sake of another relationship he had, and the thought made him sick with how selfish it was.

She was tired and it took her a while to realize that he'd entered the room, but when she did realize it her eyes flew open. "Wilbur, you're here." She tried to sit up, but then she remembered that her body was still in pain, and stopped the effort. The pillows supported her head just enough to see him well. "I forgot I still can't do that," she said smiling. "My energy still hasn't come back because of, well, you know." It was this attention that she gave to the baby that finally made him realize the bundle of pink in its own little space next to her hospital bed. "Go ahead," she said, her voice just dripping with maternity. "You can hold her."

He hadn't intended to get emotionally involved in this, but a rush compelled him to take her up on the offer, and he walked closer and picked up the sleeping baby, ever so gently. The emotion he felt next was surreal. For a moment the world stopped. This, this was his if anything ever had been, more his than even Lewis, and he felt a need to protect what he held and never let it go. Even Lewis hadn't brought out such emotions in him. He didn't call it this by name, but this was paternal instinct. The troubles of the world seemed to dissolve in these few seconds, and he tried to suppress it, but it was better to just give in. He knew he would've started to cry if he didn't propel himself to use all his energy to talk to Courtney. He asked the icebreaker question, "She's beautiful. Have you picked a name?"

"Oh, magic question." From the way she spoke to him, an outsider would think they were happily married, or that he'd at least been a prominent figure throughout her pregnancy. "I had trouble deciding for a while, but I picked something. How do you feel about alliteration?"

"Um, it's cute." He felt the body in the blanket move and was a bit surprised, and adjusted his grip for stability.

"Okay, so since you're last name begins with an R…Rachael?"

He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He looked at the baby in his arms and imagined how stupid his face probably looked.

_No, she can't be…_

"You don't like it?" Courtney sounded hurt.

"No, it's not that. I…I have to go." He rushed this out, thinking that the faster he said it the harder it would be for her to stop him. He put the baby down gently and saw how appalled Courtney was by his leaving out of the corner of his eye.  
"You're leaving? How can you just leave now?" She was angry, and she let it show.

"I'll be back, I swear I will. There's just, you don't understand, but I'll be back."

"Don't even bother." She didn't raise her voice because of her lack of energy, and he wasn't about to start fighting with her after she had just given birth. He walked out of the room and thought of how different this was from the last time he left a hospital room. Right now he wasn't wanted, but his father had begged him to stay.

He didn't know if she would be outside, waiting because she knew what today was, but he thought it was worth checking, and if she wasn't outside, then he could always travel in the time machine and find her, but since she had come to visit him several times before the baby was born, before _she _had been born, it just seemed natural that she would show up on her birthday, the culmination. His uncles and his mother gave him surprised looks as he left. They had huddled together in the waiting room, waiting for him to come out a changed man and hug him and congratulate him and celebrate his choice to be a good father. They were surprised he didn't seem to have changed, but they didn't hold him back. Not now.

He took the elevator down and exited the hospital, initially finding no one waiting for him outside. It was warm out given that it was still summer, and he wouldn't spend long looking. Then, across the street, his eyes wandered over to her, his daughter, now a young woman, sitting on a bench, a book in her hands, as if she'd been waiting for a while, expecting him. She didn't even look up as he approached her, although she must've heard the footsteps. She was well prepared for this.

"You knew. Why didn't you tell me?" He asked when he got close enough.

Her eyes stopped moving across the print on the pages. She took her bookmark and put it in between the pages, and slowly looked up at him, as if she were seeing a different person than the one she'd talked to at the funeral all those months ago. She always knew she was seeing her father, but this was the first time he looked at her knowing that this was his flesh and blood, and the dynamic between them had now shifted. Now she looked at a man who knew he had some paternal authority over her, and she knew very well he was going to use it.

"Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday? I'm thirty." She paused and added almost sarcastically, "I guess you knew that. You did that math."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He repeated.

"And what would I have said? You tell me." She was taking advantage of the fact that he now saw her as a completely different person. She used it to be slightly pushier than how she had presented herself previously. "I couldn't have risked ruining the time machine more than I already am," she added in a much gentler voice, a vulnerable voice. "I wanted you to see me as a person. Not just your daughter. A person with real feelings and needs so you couldn't cut me off, so you saw my humanity or something."

"Wait, so the part about being happily married, the struggling to get pregnant, you were lying? To get me to like you?"

"No, I wasn't lying about that." Here she shifted nervously and her tone was low. He'd obviously just opened up a wound. "I told you real facts about my life. My dad was never a part of my life and it hurt me." She rushed the last sentence out as her voice began to crack and she diverted her gaze downward. "Mom always said that you didn't want kids." She remembered this was her big confrontation moment and caught his eyes in a deadlocked stare. "I know. I know that the way I grew up, that's how it should be but I can't let that happen! I'm not asking for you two to get married just please…" She wiped the tears from her face and waited a moment before sealing her plea. "Just please be in my life, Dad."

"Exactly what do you want me to do?"

She didn't hesitate in answering, "Leave him."

"Excuse me?" It was baffling to him how she would have the faintest idea about Lewis.

"You were always with Lewis every holiday…everything. _He's _the reason you were never with me. And I don't even think he intended it to be that way, but it was."

"How do you know about him?" He'd crossed his arms at his chest and was not backing down.

"He told me. He wanted me to go and warn you. That he hated what the indifference towards me made you and he wanted me to make it right because this is about us, not about you and him. I asked and he told me everything I wanted to know."

As much as Wilbur wanted to say she was lying, he knew that this was something Lewis would do. It was the right thing, and he would want to be responsible for a father/daughter reconciliation.

"Right, well," Wilbur began. He was more relaxed now, and his words were more casual. There were no more resolutions to be made. "I can't do that."

"What do you mean you can't do that?" She stood up and got fearlessly close to him, and he wondered if it would get physical. "You have a baby now! This isn't just about you anymore!"

"You don't get it. I wish I could be there. I really do." He remembered the strong paternal feeling he'd felt when he held her. He wouldn't mind feeling that again, to go back in the hospital room and act like the situation he was in allowed him to do that.

"Yeah, that's why you were never there. For anything. You obviously wanted to be there. Do I need to show you?" She stopped and took a deep breath. She would not allow herself to break down in tears in a moment when she wanted to leave strong. "You know what? No. It's not worth my time. I hope you're happy together." She readjusted her purse to fit more comfortably on her arm and turned around in a huff. He watched her leave, still comprehending what had just happened. Less than half an hour ago, he'd held his daughter for the first time, and now he watched the woman she would become tell him of the bitter effect his absence had on her life because of his commitment to Lewis. Ironically, he now saw Lewis as the only person who could help, but he realized that he needed some time to himself, with his thoughts, to fully grapple how he felt as a singular person before bringing someone else into this. The last thing to do before he could wander into seclusion for a couple of days was sign those papers, and he found himself back into the hospital to do what he saw as a courtesy, a legal responsibility. Then he went home ahead of his family and wallowed in his thoughts and mixed emotions.


	13. Notice

**Notice:**

**Hi, I hope everyone is having a good summer. I haven't forgotten about this story. Since I last updated I've been reminding myself that I need to finish the story, and I am close to finishing, but it's been hard to get the rest out. Some of this is because of writer's block, and some of this is because of issues in my personal life. Without going into it, I'd ask you to please keep my grandfather in your thoughts and prayers. Still, part of it is because I just don't like how this turned out. I didn't plan for this to get so much like a soap opera, and it is, and that makes me so mad. It's too sappy, too over-the-top, and I don't have the passion about this that I had while I was writing In the Closet, or even the passion I had when I first came up with the concept for this, because believe me, this sounded really good in my head and I was really into the idea of it. It just didn't turn out good, and I feel it even tarnished the original story. At this point, I would really like to just erase this, let the original that I love so much be at peace and have its legacy restored, and just begin work on new, unrelated stories. Maybe down the road I'll revisit a sequel idea. I didn't want to just abandon this without telling you guys, and if possible I'd like feedback, even permission from the readers to let it go. PM me or write a review to let me know. Thanks for your support.**

**-Lorraine**


End file.
